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THE  LIBRARIES 


I 


Scaling  the  Eagle's  Nest 


The  Life  of  Russell  H.  Conwell 

OF*    PHILADELPHIA. 


BY 

AN  OLD   ARMY  COMRADE 


i'&pflkp  :  '.    ?i 

.1.. 

H* 

• 

* 

i 

PUBLISH  KD 

BY 

JAMBS     D. 

G  I 

LL 

SPRINGFIELD, 

MASS 

-  -< 


Copyright,  1889. 
JAMES    D.    GILL. 


•  b     •  «» 


CLARK  W.  BRYAN   &   CO.,  PRINTERS, 
SPRINGFIELD,   MASS. 


PREFACE  BY  THE  EDITOR. 


CD 

In  preparing  this  biography  for  the  public,  the  editor, 

^         with  the  most  valuable  aid  of  friends,  has  enlarged  and 

E^         arranged  the  writings  of  Mr.  Wm.  C.  Higgins  of  North 

Blandford,  Mass.,  who  was  a  soldier  in  Mr.  Conwell's 

O  command  during  the  war  with  the  Southern  Confeder- 

> 

:t  acy.     Mr.  Higgins  was  a  most  devoted  friend  of  Mr. 

Conwell,  and  when  a  history  of  the  Forty-sixth  Massa- 
chusetts Volunteers  was  being  compiled,  Mr.  Higgins 
volunteered  to  gather  the  facts  of  Mr.  Conwell's  life  for 
publication,  as  a  part  of  the  history  of  that  regiment. 
Mr.  Higgins  was  a  private  soldier  in  that  regiment,  and 
Mr.  Conwell  was  a  captain  at  that  time.  But  the  col- 
lection of  biographical  material  was  too  extensive  for 
such  a  volume,  and  the  idea  of  the  publication  in  that 
form  was  abandoned. 

Since  Mr.  Higgins'  death,  the  growing  fame  of  Mr. 
ConwelTs  orations,  lectures  and  sermons  has  created  a 
demand  for  a  biography  which  the  editor  hesitatingly 
attempts  in  a  measure  to  supply,  by  using  all  of  Mr. 
Higgins'  collection  with  many  additions,  and  much  re- 


IV  PREFACE    BY    THE    EDITOR. 

arrangement.  The  editor  has  tried  to  preserve  the  form 
of  Mr.  Higgins'  narrative,  and  retains  the  personal  pro- 
noun of  the  biographer  thoughout;  although  in  many 
places  considerable  new  matter  has  been  added  by  the 
advice  of  friends. 

The  editor  would  also  add  the  following  copy  of  a 
letter  from  Mr.  Conwell,  which  will  explain  itself: — 

[.mr.  conwell's  letter.] 

Grace  Baptist  Church,  ^ 
Philadelphia,  Pa.,  Jan.  i,  1SS9.  j" 
Dear  Friend:  It  was  a  surprise  to  me  to  learn  how  much 
attention  Comrade  Higgins  had  given  to  an  account  of  my 
life.  I  don't  believe  it  would  pay  to  publish  it  as  a  business 
investment.  But  I  do  feel  a  strange  mingling  of  sadness 
and  gratitude  when  I  think  of  his  life-long  friendship,  and 
the  sorrow  his  death  has  awakened.  He  was  a  good  man. 
God  bless  every  one  who  loved  him.  I  am  glad  to  know  that 
the  profits  of  the  publication,  should  there  be  any,  are  so 
generously  to  be  divided  with  his  widow.  I  should  be  glad 
to  give  you  any  reasonable  assistance  my  much  crowded  life 
will  permit. 

Your  friend  as  ever, 

Russell  H.  Conwell. 


I  N  D  EX. 


CHAPTER  I. 
The  Shepherd  Lad  and  the  Eagle's  Nest, 


Boyhood, 
The  Scholar, 
The  Orator, 
The  Author, 
The  Soldier, 
The  Lawyer, 
The  Traveler, 


CHAPTER  II. 
CHAPTER  III. 
CHAPTER  IV. 
CHAPTER  V. 
CHAPTER  VI. 
CHAPTER  VII. 
CHAPTER  VIII. 
CHAPTER  IX. 


The  Minister,      .... 
Letters  from  the  Battle-fields, 


14 
27 

37 

48 

54 

73 

89 

1  IS 
•45 


CHAPTER  1. 

THE  SHEPHERD  LAD  AND  THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 

Parents — The  hunter  s  discovery — The  flock  of  sheep — 
Climbing  the  old  tree — Expedients  and  perseverance 
—  The  victory. 

ALTHOUGH  I  was  probably  acquainted  with 
Russell  H.  Conwell  from  his  birth,  for  I  lived 
all  his  early  years  two  miles  from  his  home, 
in  Worthington,  Hampshire  County,  Massachusetts,  yet 
I  do  not  remember  much  of  him  during  his  earliest 
childhood. 

His  father  Martin  Conwell,  and  his  mother  Miranda 
Wickham  Conwell  were  intimate  acquaintances  before 
their  marriage. 

Martin  was  one  of  my  boyhood's  playmates.  His 
home  from  the  time  of  his  marriage  was  in  a  small,  red, 
one  and  one-half  story  farm  house,  near  a  summit  of  a 
rugged  part  of  that  mountain  region.  Back  of  the  old 
farm  house  and  its  out-buildings  is  a  hill  of  rock,  from 
which  is  a  magnificent  view  of  the  deep  valley  leading 
through  mountains  seen  forty  miles  away. 

But  the  first  time  I  saw  Russell,  which  I  now  recall, 


8  SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 

was  when  he  was  a  shepherd  boy,  not  over  ten  years 
old,  watching  his  father's  sheep  along  the  jagged  hill- 
side included  in  his  father's  rocky  possessions.  I  had 
been  out  hunting  for  wild  bee  trees  with  his  uncle,  and 
came  out  of  the  forest  at  the  top  of  a  high  rock  which 
forms  a  crest  of  the  broken  hill  north  of  the  Conwell 
homestead.  It  was  a  cool  October  day,  and  ten  thou- 
sand colors  ornamented  the  hills  and  valleys,  and  the 
distant  mountain  tops.  I  am  often  now  reminded  of 
that  scene  when  I  hear  Mr.  Conwell  deliver  an  address, 
or  read  one  of  his  books. 

Russell  was  in  charge  of  a  flock  of  sheep,  and  I 
think  he  had  a  hard  time  to  keep  them  in  order  among 
the  high  boulders,  the  steep  ledges  and  the  clumps  of 
thick  bushes.  But  just  in  front  of,  and  out  on  a  lower 
ledge  or  cliff,  of  the  hill  was  a  knotted,  knarled  and 
broken  hemlock  tree,  which  the  storms  had  nearly  killed. 
It  must  have  been  fifty  feet  high  then,  and  some  storm 
or  stroke  of  lightning  had  broken  off  much  of  the  top. 
There  was  only  one  limb  which  was  left  whole,  and 
many  of  the  others  had  been  broken  off  close  to  the 
trunk,  or  splintered  down.  It  was  a  craggy  ruin  of  a 
great  tree.  It  grew  on  a  wide,  barren  rock,  with  the 
roots  running  away  out  to  cracks  for  support.  On  the 
top  of  that  tree,  in  the  splintered  and  twisted  crown, 
was  an  eagle's  nest.  A  rude  thing,  built  of  awkward 
sticks,  with  a  bunch  of  hay  in  the  center.     There  was 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST.  9 

no  other  tree  near  that  old  trunk,  and  alone  it  had 
withstood  the  storms  for  probably  a  half  century  after 
the  woods  were  cleared. 

"  There's  Russell  climbing  that  tree  !  "  said  his  uncle, 
Mr.  Cole,  who  was  with  me.  But  I  had  to  look  several 
times  and  shade  my  eyes  before  I  could  see  the  boy, 
he  was  so  small. 

"  What  is  that  little  fellow  going  to  do  now  ?  "  I 
asked. 

But  Mr.  Cole  was  as  much  puzzled  as  was  I.  Mr. 
Cole  thought  he  had  better  call  him  down,  for  his  par- 
ents would  have  been  terribly  frightened  if  they  had 
seen  that  boy  alone  struggling  to  get  up  that  tree.  But 
we  decided  to  sit  down  by  the  bushes  and  watch  him, 
and  see  what  he  was  trying  to  do.  He  did  not  discover 
us,  and  we  sat  there  for  two  hours  or  more,  watching  his 
manceuvers.  It  was  rich  amusement,  and  we  laughed 
till  we  cried.  The  sheep  were  browsing  about  the 
great  rocks  in  the  unfenced  clearing,  and  knew  his 
voice  so  well  that  in  the  midst  of  his  struggles,  if  he 
saw  any  of  the  sheep  going  too  far  away  he  had  only 
to  call  them  by  name,  and  they  came  slowly  back  nibb- 
ling at  the  bushes. 

He  was  evidently  after  the  eagle's  nest,  but  there  was 
not  a  man  in  the  mountains  who  would  have  thought  it 
possible  to  do  anything  else  but  to  shoot  it  down. 
When  we  first  saw  him  he  was  half  way  up  the   great 


IO  SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 

tree,  and  was  tugging  away  to  get  up  by  a  broken  limb 
which  was  swinging  loosely  about  the  trunk.  For  a 
long  time  he  tried  to  break  it  off,  but  his  little  hand  was 
too  weak.  Then  he  came  down  from  knot  to  knot  like 
a  squirrel,  and  jumped  to  the  ground  and  ran  to  his 
little  jacket  and  took  his  jack-knife  out  of  the  pocket. 
Then  he  slowly  clambered  up  again.  When  he  reached 
the  limb  again,  he  clung  to  another  limb  with  his  left 
hand  and  threw  one  leg  over  a  splintered  knot  and  with 
the  right  hand  hacked  away  with  his  knife. 

"  He  will  give  it  up,"-  we  both  said. 

But  he  did  not.  He  chipped  away  until  at  last  the 
limb  fell  to  the  ground.  Then  he  pocketed  his  knife, 
and  bravely  strove  to  get  up  higher.  It  was  a  dizzy 
height  even  for  a  grown  hunter,  but  the  boy  never  looked 
down.  He  went  on  until  he  came  to  a  place  about  ten 
feet  below  the  nest,  where  there  was  a  long,  bare  space 
on  the  trunk,  with  no  limbs  or  knots  to  cling  to.  He 
was  baffled  then.  We  laughed  under  our  breath  as  he 
looked  on  one  side,  then  on  the  other.  He  looked  up 
at  the  nest  many  times,  tried  to  find  some  place  to  catch 
hold  of  the  rough  bark  and  sought  closely  for  some 
rest  to  put  his  foot  on  higher  up.  But  there  was  none. 
An  eagle's  nest  was  a  rare  thing  to  him,  and  he  hugged 
the  tree  and  thought.  Suddenly  he  began  hastily  to 
descend  again,  and  soon  dropped  to  the  ground.  Away 
be   ran  down   through   the    ravines,   leaping  the  little 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  II 

streams  and  disappeared  toward  his  home.  We  knew 
he  would  not  leave  the  sheep  long,  so  we  sat  still.  It 
was  but  a  few  minutes  before  we  saw  his  torn  straw  hat 
and  blue  shirt  flitting  about  the  rocks  and  bushes,  and 
soon  he  came  back  to  the  tree.  He  called  the  sheep 
all  to  him  and  talked  to  them,  and  shook  his  ringer  at 
them,  but  we  could  not  hear  what  he  said. 

Then  he  clambered  up  the  tree  again,  dragging  after 
him  a  long  piece  of  his  mother's  clothes  line.  At  one 
end  of  it  he  had  tied  a  large  stone,  and  it  hindered  his 
progress  as  it  caught  in  the  limbs  and  splinters.  The 
wind  blew  his  torn  straw  hat  away  down  aside  cliff,  and 
he  tore  one  side  of  his  pants  leg  sadly.  But  he  went  on. 
When  he  got  to  the  smooth  place  on  the  tree  again,  he 
fastened  one  end  of  the  rope  about  his  wrist,  and  then 
taking  the  stone  which  was  fastened  to  the  other  end, 
he  tried  to  throw  it  up  over  the  nest.  It  was  an  awk- 
ward and  a  dangerous  position,  and  the  stone  did  not 
reach  the  top.  Six  or  seven  times  he  threw  that  stone 
up,  and  it  fell  short  or  went  to  one  side,  and  nearly 
dragged  him  down  as  it  fell. 

"  Let's  stop  him  !     Let  s  stop  him  !  "  I  said. 

But  Mr.  Cole  said,  "Let  him  try  once  more." 

The  little  boy  felt  for  his  knife  again,  and  opened  it 
with  his  teeth  as  he  held  on,  and  hauling  the  rope  up, 
cut  off  a  part  of  it.  Then  he  threw  a  short  piece  around 
the  tree  and  tied  himself  with  it  to  the  tree.     Then  he 


12  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

could  lean  back  for  a  longer  throw.  So  he  tied  the 
rope  to  his  hand  again,  and  threw  the  stone  with  all  his 
energy.  It  went  straight  as  an  arrow.  It  drew  the 
rope  squarely  over  the  nest  and  fell  down  the  other  side 
of  the  tree.  After  quite  a  struggle  he  reached  around 
the  tree  for  the  stone,  and  tied  that  end  of  the  rope 
to  a  long  broken  limb.  When  he  drew  the  other  end 
of  the  rope  which  had  been  fastened  to  his  hand,  it 
broke  down  the  sides  of  the  nest  at  the  top  of  the  tree, 
and  an  old  bird  arose  from  the  nest  with  a  wild  scream. 

We  had  supposed  the  nest  was  deserted  until  that 
moment.  I  was  afraid  the  eagle  would  show  fight,  and 
we  put  our  guns  in  order  to  bring  her  down  if  she  came 
back  to  attack  the  boy.  But  she  swooped  down  about 
the  place  but  twice,  and  then  flew  away  off  to  a  grove 
on  another  hill. 

Then  Russell  loosed  the  rope  which  held  him  to  the 
tree,  and  pulling  himself  up  with  his  hands  on  the  scal- 
ing line,  digging  his  bare  toes,  heels  and  knees  at  times 
into  the  ragged  bark,  he  was  up  in  two  minutes  to  the 
nest.  He  pulled  the  whole  nest  to  pieces  in  a  moment, 
and  scattered  the  pieces  over  the  rocks.  The  long 
feathers,  which  the  boy  was  after,  went  flying  about  the 
ground. 

Then  he  slipped  back  easily  to  the  great  knot  where 
he  had  fastened  the  rope,  and  we  called  out  to  him  to 
stop  there  a  while.     We  had  hoped  that  the  bird  would 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  13 

come  back  so  that  we  could  get  a  shot  at  her.  Russell 
was  surprised  when  he  found  we  had  been  sitting  up 
there  on  the  ledge  laughing  at  him  all  the  time.  But  the 
old  eagle  would  not  come  back,  and  probably  thought  a 
deserted  home  was  not  worth  fighting  about.  I  believe 
Russell  afterwards  caught  her  in  a  trap,  at  any  rate  he 
kept  those  eagle's  feathers  many  years,  which  he  took 
so  much  risk  to  get  from  the  nest. 

I  have  never  forgotten  that  incident,  not  only  because 
the  boy  was  so  persistent  and  ingenius,  but  because  it 
was  so  unusual  a  thing  for  an  eagle  to  be  found  in  the 
mountains  at  that  time  of  the  year.  His  uncle  said 
"  No  one  on  earth  but  Russell  would  have  thought  of 
such  a  thing,  or  ventured  to  climb  for  such  a  prize." 


CHAPTER  II. 


BOYHOOD. 


Brother  and  sister — His  boyhood' 's  home — Father's  occu- 
patioti — Hardships — School  life — Daily  work — Love 
of  animals — Sports — Saving  lives — Love  of  storms — 
An  author's  description  of  his  old  home. 

RUSSELL  H.  CONWELL  was  the  second  son  in 
a  family,  with  one  brother  and  one  sister.  The 
sister,  now  Mrs.  Lyman  T.  Ring  of  Huntington, 
Mass.,  is  three  years  younger  than  Russell.  His  brother 
Charles  was  in  the  United  States  service  for  a  number 
of  years,  during  and  after  the  war  of  the  rebellion.  He 
died  in  187 1,  having  been  for  sometime  attached  to  the 
United  States  Survey  of  the  Mississippi  River,  under 
General  Warren,  LT.  S.  A.  Both  his  parents  died  soon 
after,  and  all  are  buried  in  the  Cemetery  at  Ringville, 
in  his  native  town  of  Worthington.  The  white  slabs 
which  mark  their  graves  can  be  seen  a  long  distance 
away,  as  the  burial  place  is  on  a  prominent  little  plateau 
of  those  elevated  highlands. 

Russell's  home  was  a  very  humble  one,  and  his  fare 
of  the   most   simple  kind,   as  his  parents   began  life 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S  -  NEST.  I  5 

together  very  poor,  and  were  obliged  to  save  every  penny 
to  meet  the  interest  on  the  farm.  It  would  seem  absurd, 
I  suppose,  to  the  farmers  of  the  rich  valleys,  or  on  the 
western  prairies,  to  give  the  name  of  "  a  farm  "  to  such 
a  collection  of  broken  rocks,  ledges,  cliffs,  sand  heaps, 
brush  clumps,  muck  hollows  and  barren  hillsides,  as  was 
included  in  that  little  homestead  of  a  hundred  acres. 

Russell's  father  was  unable  to  get  a  living  oft  the 
farm  alone,  and  so  contracted  to  lay  stone  walls  for 
farms  and  house  cellars.  Russell's  father  was  a  very 
powerful  man  physically,  and  was  regarded  among  us 
as  the  strongest  man  of  muscle  in  the  neighborhood. 
But  he  was  also  a  man  of  unusual  native  talent,  and 
soon  saw  that  there  was  more  money  in  the  mercantile 
life  than  in  stone  masonry.  So  while  Russell  was  a 
small  boy  his  father  began  to  gather  up  butter,  eggs, 
cattle,  sheep,  wild  animal's  skins  and  various  merchant- 
able productions  of  the  mountain  towns,  and  periodi- 
cally visited  the  city  of  Springfield,  Mass.,  to  dispose 
of  them  at  a  profit. 

He  was  a  man  of  unimpeachable  moral  character, 
and  was  respected  and  trusted  implicitly  by  all  who  had 
dealings  with  him.  Hence  he  did  not  need  much 
money  on  which  to  transact  business.  He  did  not  suc- 
ceed in  getting  rich,  but  he  did  pay  off  the  debt  on  his 
farm,  and  always  gave  liberally  toward  the  church, 
schools  and  charitable  enterprises.     I  never  heard  how 


1 6  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

much  he  had  accumulated  when  he  died,  but  he  could 
not  have  been  at  anytime  worth  over  two  thousand  dol- 
lars. But  he  was  a  genial,  good  neighbor,  and  a  con- 
sistent, active  member  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church  in  the  small  hamlet  of  South  Worthington. 

Russell's  early  life  must  have  been  spent  in  the  hard- 
ships of  that  struggle  for  a  living.  He  was,  at  three 
years  of  age,  sent  to  a  district  school  two  miles  away, 
and  the  hilly  path  led  over  wild  scenes  and  through 
deep  woods.  I  have  often  heard  him  speak  with  ten- 
derness of  that  clear  old  red  school-house  of  his  earliest 
recollections.  But  he  could  go  to  school  only  in  the 
autumn  or  winter  months,  as  he  was  needed  on  the 
farm  to  watch  the  sheep,  or  drive  the  cattle,  or  stable 
the  horse,  or  chop  the  wood.  His  life  began  with  work, 
and  has  been  one  of  continuous  employment. 

His  school  life,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  from  his  school- 
mates, was  not  in  any  way  remarkable,  unless  it  be  for 
the  irresistible  and  provoking  way  he  had  of  arousing 
mirth  and  making  even  the  teacher  laugh  at  his  original 
ways  and  speeches.  He  early  acquired  a  most  wonder- 
ful power  of  memorizing  which  strangely  enabled  him 
to  look  at  pages  and  afterwards  study  them  before  his 
mind's  eye  without  the  book.  He  was  a  special  favorite 
during  several  terms,  from  a  habit  he  had  of  bringing  his 
pockets  full  of  large  sheepnose  apples  and  generously 
giving  them  all  away.     I  do  not  think  he  ate  a  single 


The  Church  at  South  Worthington. 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  17 

apple  himself  for  the  weeks  in  which  he  came  loaded. 
He  was  strong  and  rugged  as  the  rocks,  and  he  could 
do  without  his  meals  most  sturdily,  and  give  his  dinner 
away  to  other  school  children.  The  old  schoolhouse 
was  a  rude  structure,  and  had  rough  benches  and  rough 
desks,  with  a  large  stove  for  burning  logs  of  wood,  in  the 
center  of  the  room.  It  is  still  standing,  and  is  often 
pointed  out  to  travelers  on  the  Worthington  stage  which 
passes  the  house. 

At  home  Russell  and  his  brother  slept  in  the  attic 
under  the  roof,  with  the  unpainted  rafters  and  shingles 
over  them,  and  the  stormy  winds  moaning  under  the 
eaves,  and  sometimes  rifts  of  snow  drifting  into  the 
place  through  the  cracks.  His  clothing  was  of  cheap 
material,  and  often  patched  and  ragged,  as  the  most  dili- 
gent mother  could  not  keep  such  a  boy  in  whole  apparel. 
His  daily  tasks  in  early  boyhood  during  the  winter  were 
a  changeable,  conflicting  hurry,  from  building  the  morn- 
ing fire  before  daylight  to  milking  the  cows,  feeding 
the  horse,  cutting  wood,  caring  for  the  sheep  and  pigs, 
shoveling  out  snow-drifts,  mending  ox-sleds,  hunting  for 
hen's  eggs,  peeling  apples  and  general  housework.  If 
he  went  to  school  he  or  his  brother,  or  both  had  to  come 
home  early  or  at  noontime  to  care  for  the  stock. 

But  his  brother  told  me  that  Russell  was  the  only 
one  about  the  farm  who  was  able  to  catch  a  wild  cat,  or 
could  control  the  vicious  cattle.     He  seemed  to  under- 


l8  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

stand  them  and  they  understood  him.  He  would  ride 
down  to  the  watering-place  in  the  valley  on  a  shy  cow's 
back,  and  come  rushing  back,  holding  with  both  arms 
about  the  neck  of  a  prancing  ox.  The  calves  would 
kick  up  and  chase  him  about  among  the  rocks  with  a 
childish  delight.  The  wild  squirre)s  and  woodchucks 
he  often  fed,  and  he  was  repeatedly  overheard  pronounc- 
ing a  funeral  oration  over  some  animal  which  others 
had  killed. 

In  summer  time  his  boyish  life  was  spent  in  shepherd 
occupations,  or  in  planting,  hoeing  or  gathering  the 
scanty  crops  of  corn,  potatoes,  beans  and  pumpkins 
which  constituted  the  entire  harvest.  He  loved  fruit 
trees  and  planted  them  wherever  there  was  hope  of  soil 
between  the  stones  to  support  them.  One  of  the  finest 
apple  orchards  on  the  mountains  is  one  which  is  still 
wonderfully  fruitful,  and  which  he  set  out  with  young 
trees,  and  grafted  before  he  left  the  old  homestead. 
The  broken  hillsides,  which  he  helped  to  clear  of  lum- 
ber, are  many  of  them  overgrown  again,  and  some  of  the 
corn-fields  where  he  attacked  the  weeds  and  pronounced 
oratorical  maledictions  on  them,  as  he  worked  on  for 
hours  alone,  are  now  covered  with  wild  growths  of 
mountain  blackberries  and  raspberries,  and  the  fox, 
woodchuck,  muskrat,  wild  partridge  and  bluejay  revel 
in  a  wilderness  there.  But  the  barren  hill-top  behind 
the  old  house,  with  a  side  growth  of  sugar-maple  trees, 


SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST.  19 

still  remains  unchanged.  The  old  sugar-house  in  the 
forest,  where  he  used  to  gather  the  maple  sap  in  the 
spring,  and  where,  through  long  nights  he  fed  the  chald- 
ron fire,  and  read  borrowed  books  by  the  flickering 
light,  is  still  standing,  I  think.  He  cared  but  little  for 
hunting,  but  took  the  prize  in  four  or  five  contests  at 
shooting  matches,  and  has  received  several  prizes  at 
city  matches  since.  But  he  enjoyed  picking  wild  ber- 
ries, and  long  expeditions  into  the  woods,  or  nights  and 
days  of  fishing  at  the  ponds  or  lakes  which  fill  so  many 
of  our  mountain  crests.  Every  lurking-place  for  trout 
in  all  the  cascades,  pools  and  eddies  of  the  stream  about 
the  neighborhood,  he  was  familiar  with.  But  how  he 
managed  to  get  any  time  for  such  things,  was  ever  a 
surprise.  But  he  must  have  played  truant  sometimes, 
and  the  way  he  could  write  his  father's  name  when 
skating  one  day  on  the  mill-pond  at  the  village,  led  his 
father  to  say,  "  Such  things  as  that  are  not  done  without 
practice,  and  I  guess  I'll  set  him  at  peeling  bark  in  the 
new  clearing." 

He  was  a  powerful  swimmer,  and  could  get  none  of 
the  boys  to  race  with  him  in  that  sport.  I  heard  of 
several  cases  where  he  saved  persons  from  drowning  by 
his  skill  as  a  swimmer.  In  one  case,  at  Norwich  Pond, 
he  swam  over  a  mile  to  an  upset  boat,  and  dove 
three  times,  bringing  up  a  man  and  a  boy  who  had  gone 
down   a  second   time.     He  had  a  gift  for  inventing,  or 


20  SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 

improving  fishing  apparatus,  oars,  boats,  coasting  sleighs, 
household  and  farm  utensils,  and  all  sorts  of  wind  and 
water  toys.  He  loved  such  pastimes,  and  his  father 
often  punished  him  with  the  rod  for  his  persistence  in 
their  construction.  The  only  time  his  father  ever  asked 
his  pardon,  I  have  heard,  was  after  he  had  whipped 
Russell  for  leaving  the  cider  apples  out  in  the  frost 
while  he  worked  on  an  improved  ox-sled,  which,  after- 
ward, was  of  great  practical  use. 

The  fierce  winter  storms,  which  in  these  mountains 
and  this  climate  are  often  long  and  wild,  were  to  Rus- 
sell a  delight.  He  was  out  in  the  coldest  weather,  and 
driving  snow-storms  were  no  hindrance  to  his  lonely 
excursions.  Often  covered  with  icy  sleet  and  sliding 
on  snowdrifts  deeper  than  his  length,  he  found  his 
way  to  the  woods,  or  to  school,  or  to  the  pickerel  holes 
on  the  ponds  without  fear  or  complaint.  He  was  often 
the  first  thought  of  a  neighbor,  and  always  the  first 
volunteer,  when  a  sheep  or  calf  had  been  lost  in  the 
hills  or  forests,  and  one  of  his  older  neighbors  tells  me 
that  he  remembers  one  night  in  a  rocky  pasture,  two 
miles  away  from  any  house  where  at  dawn  he  found  a 
neighbor's  lost  cow  nearly  buried  in  the  snow  of  the 
sudden  storm.  His  love  for  coasting  on  the  icy  crust 
in  winter,  when  a  smooth  slab  or  two  barrel  staves 
served  as  a  sleigh,  was  a  positive  passion.  The  steepest 
side  hills,  and  the  many  dangerous  declivities  and  leaps 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  2  1 

were  his  attraction  ;  and  like  an  arrow  he  would  dart 
down  from  peak  to  valley  with  a  recklessness  of  man- 
ner that  led  all  the  old  ladies  to  prophesy  that  "  Rus- 
sell will  get  killed  one  of  these  days." 

But  there  seemed  to  be  a  skill  back  of  all  the  venture- 
someness  which  brought  him  safe  at  the  foot  of  the  hills. 
In  summer  he  was  out  in  the  darkest  thunder-showers, 
and  seemed  to  have  a  strange  pleasure  in  getting  wet 
through,  and  in  witnessing  the  near  play  of  the  lightning. 
A  thunder-storm  in  the  mountains  was  his  great  sport, 
and  his  mother  told  me  that  all  the  years  of  his  boy- 
hood, as  soon  as  he  heard  the  patter  of  the  great  drops 
on  the  shingles  over  his  bed,  or  as  soon  as  awakened 
by  the  distant  thunder,  he  would  always  get  up  and  sit 
at  the  open  window,  or  go  out  into  the  night  to  watch 
the  storm  alone.  Whether  or  not  he  cares  for  such 
things  now,  I  do  not  know. 

The  attractive  author  Miss  May  Field  McKean  once 
visited  the  Conwell  homestead,  and  published  a  descrip- 
tion of  her  journey  which  contained  the  following  : 

"  Just  at  present  many  thoughts  are  turning  with  in- 
terest toward  the  Green  Mountains  of  Massachusetts, 
because  in  so  doing  they  follow  Russell  H.  Conwell  to 
the  home  of  his  boyhood.  But  though  fancy  may  have 
painted  those  scenes  to  which  he  has  from  time  to  time 
referred,  during  his  public  ministrations,  or  private 
utterances  among  us,  yet  to  most  of  us  the  fancy  is 


22  SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 

vague  and  undefined  ;  therefore  we  are  sure  we  can  lay 
before  our  readers  nothing  that  can  give  them  more 
pleasure  than  a  description  of  that  early  home. 

"  Huntington  Station,  in  Hampshire  County,  Mass.,  is 
twenty-one  miles  northwest  of  Springfield,  on  the  Bos- 
ton and  Albany  Railroad.  The  residence  of  his  sister 
and  brother-in-law,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lyman  T.  Ring,  is 
reached  by  a  five-mile  drive  from  here.  It  is  situated 
on  the  East  Branch  of  the  Westfield  River,  upon  a 
sufficient  eminence  to  command  a  fine  view  of  the  rapid 
river,  and  the  surrounding  country. 

"  But  to  reach  the  old  homestead,  one  must  drive  six 
miles  up  the  valley  to  South  Worthington.  The  course 
lay  for  a  time  along  the  river,  and  then  followed  a  tribu- 
tary to  it,  so  that  one  did  not  once  leave  the  sweet 
sound  of  falling  water — for  these  swift  mountain  streams 
present  but  little  likeness  to  the  slow,  dignified  advance 
of  our  level-country  rivers.  In  fact  they  remind  one 
very  much  of  '  How  the  water  comes  down  at  Lodore.' '' 

"  '  From  its  fountains 
In  the  mountains, 
Through  moss  and  through  brake 
It  runs  and  it  creeps 
For  a  while,  till  it  sleeps 
In  it's  own  little  lake. 
And  thence  at  departing, 
Awakening  and  starting, 
It  runs  through  the  reeds, 
And  away  it  proceeds, 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST.  23 

Through  meadow  and  glade, 

In  sun  and  in  shade — 

Here  it  comes  sparkling, 

And  there  it  lies  darkling. 

***** 
And  so  never  ending,  but  always  descending, 
Sounds  and  motions  forever  are  blending,'  etc. 

"  And  while  this  harmony  of  '  sounds  and  motions ' 
was  upon  one  side  of  the  road,  upon  the  other  rose  the 
mountains  in  some  places  almost  perpendicularly,  some- 
times to  considerable  heights,  thickly  wooded  with  many 
kinds  of  trees,  among  the  rocks  at  whose  feet,  fern  and 
moss  and  shrub  vied  with  each  other  in  delicacy  of 
shade  and  gracefulness  of  form  and  variety  of  beauty 
and  bloom. 

"  Presently  we  were  told  :  '  When  we  have  passed  the 
next  bend  in  the  road  we  can  see  the  old  church.'  A 
few  rods  more,  and  high  before  us  we  saw  the  white 
gleam  through  the  trees,  seeming  to  give  strength  and 
calmness  to  the  scene  by  its  heavenward-pointing 
spire.  Before  reaching  it  we  came  to  one  of  the 
wildest  and  most  beautiful  series  of  cascades  that  can 
be  imagined. 

"  A  particular  characteristic  of  all  these  New  England 
houses  is  the  absolute  neatness  in  which  they  are  kept. 
Buildings  which  looked  as  if  the  contractors  had  fin- 
ished their  work  this  year,  and  the  painters  yesterday, 
were  pointed  out  as  having  stood  in  the  same  neat  order 


24  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    FEST. 

for  half  a  century.  The  exterior  of  this  church  was  no 
exception  to  the  rule,  though  the  interior  showed  the 
mistake.  The  Conwell  pew  was  the  second  from  the 
front  on  the  right  hand  side — straight-backed,  narrow- 
seated  and  square-armed.  The  gallery,  where  as  a 
young  man  Mr.  Conwell  used  to  lead  the  singing,  ran 
across  the  front  of  the  church. 

"  From  the  window  in  this  gallery  the  scene  is  exceed- 
ingly beautiful,  commanding  a  view  for  many  miles  down 
the  valley.  Up  to  this  time  the  weather  had  been 
threatening  rain.  Now  the  sun  shone  forth  in  splen- 
dor, but  from  a  sky  so  full  of  clouds  that  they  were 
constantly  changing  and  completing  the  picture  by  their 
own  beautiful  forms  and  tints  above,  and  their  shadows 
on  the  valley  and  mountain  sides  below. 

"  A  little  beyond  the  church  is  the  old  homestead.  The 
House,  which  stands  upon  a  commanding  eminence,  is 
out  of  repair  now,  for  it  has  gone  into  strangers'  hands. 
Roses  and  running  vines  have  been  trained  around  the 
door  once,  but  to-day  they  are  neglected  and  forlorn- 
looking  ;  weeds  grow  side  by  side  with  the  lilies  of 
former  care,  and  the  pathway  has  been  encroached 
upon  by  the  grass  and  shrubs  of  the  door-yard. 

"  The  view  from  the  porch  here  is  but  little  changed 
from  that  already  noted  at  the  church,  and  among  the 
first  sounds  which  greeted  the  infant  ears  of  the  child- 
ren of  the  household  must  have   been  the  '  music  of 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  25 

* 

the  waters  '  from  the  cascades  below.  Above  the  porch 
is  the  small-paned  window  into  the  attic  which  Mr. 
Conwell  occupied  when  a  boy,  where  he 

"  Listened  to  the  strain 

That  was  played  upon  the  shingles 
By  the  patter  of  the  rain." 

"  Back  of  the  house  is  the  old  barn  ;  then  a  field  that 
was  a  ball  ground  of  years  ago ;  and  then  still  farther 
ascending  the  brow  of  the  mountain,  capped  by  a  huge 
rock  from  which  the  eye  may  turn  in  any  direction  and 
still  behold  a  feast  of  beauty.  The  reader  will  not 
wonder  that  the  writer  gathered  a  piece  of  moss  from 
the  foot  of  this  rock  to  be  preserved  as  a  souvenir  of 
the  spot.  Again  in  fancy  do  we  breathe  long,  sweet 
draughts  of  the  pure  mountain  air,  listen  to  the  restless, 
ceaseless  murmur  of  the  now  distant  water,  hear  the 
melody  of  the  birds'  song  and  insect  life,  and  note  the 
perfect  harmony  of  field  and  wood,  of  mountain  and 
valley,  of  sunlight  and  shadow.  Tis  only  in  the  sin- 
fulness of  human  life  that  we  discover  discord  and 
incompleteness. 

"  Coming  back  we  passed  into  the  orchard.  These 
trees  were  planted  by  Mr.  Conwell  himself.  We  had 
seen  many  trees  heavily  laden  with  fruit,  but  none  so 
heavily  as  these.  Although  many  of  the  branches  were 
propped  up,  they  still  bowed  low  under  their  weight  of 
promising  fruitage,  and  we  could   not  help  asking  the 


26  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

question  whether  there  was  not  in  this  fact  a  prophecy 
that  is  being  realized  in  the  life  of  him  who  planted 
them. 

"  In  a  farther  drive  we  were  shown  the  schoolhouse 
where  in  youthful  days  he  went  to  school,  the  spring 
where  all  the  children  drank  on  their  way  to  and  from 
thence,  the  building  where  he  taught  his  first  school, 
and  the  town  hall  where  the  people  assembled  from 
miles  around  to  do  honor  to  the  returned  soldiers,  as 
described  in  the  lecture  '  Acres  of  Diamonds.'  From 
this  point — the  table-land  of  the  lower  Green  Moun- 
tains— can  be  seen  the  mountain  near  the  birthplace  and 
early  home  of  William  Cullen  Bryant,  who  among  this 
Hampshire  County  scenery,  wrote  his  immortal  '  Thana- 
topsis.' 

"  We  once  heard  Dr.  Henson  say :  '  It  is  the  country 
boy  whose  eyes  from  childhood  have  looked  off  to 
grand  distances,  and  whose  strength  has  come  from 
nearness  to  nature  in  her  sublimity  and  beauty,  who 
has  a  far-reaching  mental  vision,  and  who  proves  the 
greatest  power  in  the  world.'     '  Well,  we  don't  wonder.'  " 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    SCHOLAR. 

His  school  days — Mental  peculiarities — His  teachers — 
Rev.  Asa  Niles — Industrious  study — Books  in  his 
pockets — Wilbraham  Academy — Cooking  his  mush 
alone — a  poor  boy  at  Yale — Kindness  of  professors — 
His  first  literary  ventures  —  Interrupted  studies  — 
The  war. 

IN    securing  the   information    about    Mr.    Conwell's 
studies,    and    education    generally,   I   have   asked 
several   of   his    highly-educated    acquaintances   to 
send  me  information,  and  this  report  is  made  up  largely 
of  their  answers. 

Russell  was  a  rather  dull  scholar  when  a  child,  ac- 
cording to  some  of  his  teachers,  and  very  troublesome 
sometimes  in  his  rollicking  mischievousness.  But  be- 
ginning at  three  years  of  age  to  go  two  miles  over  the 
hill-tops  to  school  would  seem  like  precociousness  to  me. 
But  his  teachers  and  books  were  not  of  the  first  order, 
and  the  ideas  concerning  teaching  in  a  Yankee  school 
district  then  and  now,  are  quite  different.  He  was 
often  at  the  foot  of  his  class,  except  when  he  was  in  a 


28  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

branch  by  himself.  Yet  he  seemed  to  understand  the 
books,  and  in  a  curious,  general  way  obtained  knowl- 
edge speedily.  He  once  told  me  when  he  visited  his 
native  town,  to  give  a  centennial  address  I  think,  that 
there  was  one  teacher,  a  Miss  Salina  Cole,  afterward 
Mrs.  Parsons,  to  whom  he  was  more  indebted  for  his 
education  than  to  any  other  teacher  or  professor  he  ever 
had.  She  had  some  theory  in  psychology,  or  mind  de- 
velopment, which  she  tried  to  use  with  the  smaller 
scholars,  but  which  was  a  failure  with  nearly  every  one 
but  Russell.  She  tried  to  train  them  to  remember  by 
a  kind  of  pholographic  process  in  the  mind,  which  I 
could  not  easily  explain.  It  was  a  hobby,  or  fancy  of 
the  time  or  place.  By  it  the  children  were  supposed 
to  be  able  to  repeat  long  recitations  verbatim,  by  read- 
ing them  over  but  once.  It  was  done  by  scrutinizing 
the  page  closely,  and  word  by  word,  once,  and  then 
shutting  the  eyes  and  reproducing  the  actual  page  on 
the  mind  so  as  to  read  it  off,  word  for  word.  It  has 
really  been  a  wonder  in  his  case.  He  could  repeat 
many  pages  without  an  error,  even  in  the  punctuation. 
But  he  could  not  do  it  with  his  eyes  open.  He  seemed 
to  actually  see  the  page  in  his  mind.  He  said  that  some 
of  those  pages  he  recited  then,  came  to  him  twenty- 
five  years  after,  when  in  certain  conditions  of  mental 
excitement,  and  every  word  is  as  clear  as  the  print. 
Under  favorable,  but  often  curious  conditions,  he  can 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  29 

now  read  once  a  whole  chapter  of  the  Bible,  and  recite 
the  whole  of  it  hours  after  without  having  attempted 
to  "commit  it  to  memory"  on  the  plan  of  "learning 
by  heart." 

But  the  ablest  teacher.of  his  early  years,  and  the  per- 
son who  encouraged  him  to  aspire  to  scholarship,  was 
the  Rev.  Asa  Niles,  a  local  Methodist  preacher,  and 
father  of  Prof.  W.  H.  Niles  of  Cambridge,  Mass.  The 
Rev.  Asa  Niles  was  a  noble  character,  and  as  a  teacher 
he  was  strict  and  energetic.  Russell  and  his  brother 
Charles  were  inspired  by  that  good  man  to  seek  a  higher 
education.  Mr.  Niles  was  a  cousin  of  Russell's  fa*her, 
and  the  relationship  may  have  increased  the  interest. 
The  three  boys,  Russell  and  Charles  and  William  H. 
Niles  were  the  closest  of  friends,  and  loved  the  same 
studies. 

Prof.  W.  H.  Niles  is  now  one  of  the  most  honored 
professors  at  the  Technological  Institute  at  Boston, 
Mass.,  and  is  well  known  as  a  scientific  lecturer  through- 
out the  country.  Rev.  Asa  Niles  watched  over  Russell 
almost  as  over  his  own  son,  and  while  often  provoked 
by  Russell's  wildness,  yet  clung  to  him  nobly.  He  it 
was  who  had  influence  enough  with  Russell's  father  to 
obtain  permission  for  the  boy  to  go  to  Wilbraham 
Academy,  after  the  local  schools  were  exhausted  in  his 
line  of  studies.  It  was  he  that  encouraged  Russell  to 
teach  school  at  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  as  Russell's 


30  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

father  was  poor,  it  was  a  sacrifice  for  him  to  give  up  the 
boy's  wages  just  as  he  could  earn  something.  But  Mr. 
Niles  was  respected  by  all,  and  an  especial  friend  of 
Russell's  father,  because  of  their  membership  in  the 
little  M.  E.  Church  at  the  head  of  the  valley.  Russell 
obtained  about  all  the  privileges  Mr.  Niles  asked. 

It  was  Mr.  Niles  who  suggested  to  Russell  the  course 
he  has  always  pursued,  and  which  has  made  him  such 
a  scholar.  Mr.  Niles  advised  him  to  take  a  book  with 
him  at  all  times,  and  study  every  spare  moment,  wher- 
ever he  might  be.  Russell  adopted  it  heartily.  In  the 
hayfield,  at  noon  hour,  or  in  the  potato  patch  at  the  end 
of  each  row  he  would  glance  at  the  book  and  meditate 
on  the  page  as  he  continued  his  work.  When  driving 
an  ox-team  to  the  distant  railroad,  or  when  using  the 
horse  on  the  road  or  in  the  fields  and  forest,  wherever 
there  was  a  short  or  long  drive,  Russell  produced  his 
worn  book  and  learned  something.  Even  his  father, 
who  was  a  man  of  excellent  judgment,  made  jokes 
about  Russell's  bookishness.  But  the  boy  stuck  to  it, 
and  I  think  carries  books  about  with  him  still  in  the 
busy  life  of  to-day. 

When  Russell  was  sixteen  years  old  he  went  to  the 
Academy  at  Wilbraham,  at  the  edge  of  the  Connecticut 
Valley,  twelve  miles  east  of  Springfield,  Mass.  He 
was  too  poor  to  go  but  one  term  at  a  time,  in  company 
with  his  brother,  and  even  then  they  earned  their  board 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  3 1 

by  working  after  study  hours  for  the  farmers  about  the 
village.  I  was  told  while  in  the  army,  by  one  of  his 
classmates,  that  during  one  term  Russell  had  a  room 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  village  and  lived  alone,  and  his 
entire  food  for  several  weeks  was  Indian  mush  and 
milk  prepared  by  himself. 

Such  a  broken  life  interrupted  his  studies  much,  so 
that  he  never  stood  very  high  in  his  classes.  His  stud- 
ies and  reading,  however,  took  a  wide  range,  and  he 
mastered  many  books  not  in  the  curriculum  of  studies. 
He  was  independent  of  criticism  or  standing  in  the 
Academy,  made  so,  I  suppose,  by  his  hardships  and  in- 
ability to  dress  as  well  as  the  more  favored  students. 
But  there  he  met  with  a  sympathetic  friend  and  helper  in 
the  Rev.  Miner  Raymond,  D.  D.,  principal  of  the  Acad- 
emy, and  made  many  friends  among  a  class  of  men, 
many  of  whom  are  now  high  in  the  world's  success. 

For  three  years,  1859,  i860,  and  t86i,  Russell  labored 
a  part  of  the  time  at  the  Academy,  a  part  of  the  time 
teaching  school  in  Blandford,  Mass.,  or  at  West  Gran- 
ville (Beach  Hill),  Mass.,  and  a  part  of  the  time  help- 
ing his  father  on  the  farm. 

In  1 86 1  and  the  first  part  of  1862  Russell  went  to 
Yale  College  with  his  brother  Charles.  There  he  was 
too  poor  to  enter  on  the  regular  classical  course  in  the 
college,  but  met  with  a  most  generous  reception  from 
sympathetic  professors. 


32  SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 

He  had  decided  to  study  for  the  law,  although  all  the 
time  inclined  toward  the  ministry.  He  found  that  he 
could  save  time  and  money  by  working  hard  and  taking 
the  law  and  classics  together.  The  privations  he  en- 
dured, and  the  hard  work  he  performed  soon  threw  him 
into  a  dangerous  fever.  But  even  on  his  bed  he  kept 
up  his  law  studies,  and  held  through  to  the  examination 
in  the  Law  School.  Prof.  Silliman  and  the  president  of 
the  college  urged  him  to  take  less  work,  and  offered  to 
assist  him  with  money,  but  he  declined  to  borrow  money. 
It  was  a  generous,  and  most  creditable  kindness,  which 
led  those  professors  to  give  extra  time  from  their  private 
hours  to  help  on  that  poor  boy  so  that  he  might  be  able 
to  enter  the  junior  year  by  examination. 

Such  men  are  an  honor  to  our  colleges.  Yet  when 
we  think  how  at  that  sensitive  age  those  young  brothers 
faced  the  ridicule  of  students  in  wealth,  and  struggled 
against  such  great  obstacles  to  obtain  an  education,  we 
can  account  readily  for  the  consequent  success.  Charles 
selected  at  Yale  a  scientific  pursuit,  and  Russell  chose 
the  law. 

Something  of  the  genius  of  the  boy  at  the  beginning 
of  his  study  at  New  Haven  is  seen  in  a  poem,  quite 
extensively  copied  then,  which  he  wrote  for  the  North- 
ampton Gazette,  but  which  I  obtained  from  the  Somer- 
ville  Journal,  published  by  Mr.  ConwelPs  brother-in-law 
J.  O.  Hayden.     The  first  verse  is  all  I  need  copy  : 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  33 

"  There's  a  time  in  the  night 
When  an  editor's  light 
Burns  in  his  sanctum  dimly. 
When  his  eye  is  fired, 
And  his  tongue  inspired 
With  thought  and  reason  seemly. 
Oh,  oh  could  he  pen 
The  thoughts  that  come  then, 
And  fill  his  room  so  lonely, 
'Twould  build  him  a  name 
'Mid  the  temples  of  fame, 
Compared  with  the  greatest  only.' 

But  into  the  feverish  rush  and  exhausting  toil  of  that 
student's  life  came  the  patriotic  call.  His  country 
needed  men  to  maintain  the  supremacy  of  freedom,  and 
he  suddenly  broke  away.  Both  he  and  his  brother  de- 
termined one  evening  to  leave  all  and  go  to  war.  Rus- 
sell attempted  to  enlist  as  a  private  in  the  27th  Massa- 
chusetts Infantry,  and  signed  the  papers,  but  his  father's 
objection  prevented  the  mustering  officer  from  accept- 
ing him. 

But  when  the  46th  Massachusetts  Infantry  was  called 
out,  the  unanimous  and  urgent  demand  of  Company  F 
for  him  as  captain,  led  Governor  Andrew  to  commis- 
sion the  beardless  boy. 

But  he  went  on  with  his  studies.  Books,  books  every- 
where !  Study,  study  at  all  times  when  off  duty.  Often 
I  saw  him  wandering  off  up  the  banks  of  the  Neuse 
River  at  New  Berne,  N.  C,  or  out  into  the  cotton  fields, 


34  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

or  in  his  tent  studying  Blackstone  or  Greenleaf.  After 
our  term  of  service  was  over,  and  he  had  entered  the 
artillery  service,  he  continued  his  persistent  study.  At 
Fort  Macon,  N.  C,  when  in  command  of  the  outposts, 
he  walked  up  and  down  the  shore,  and  learned  by  heart 
chapter  after  chapter  of  law  and  philosophy.  His  in- 
dependence and  almost  recklessness  as  a  soldier,  which 
continually  got  him  into  trouble,  did  not  abate  his 
studiousness. 

After  his  wounds  at  Kennesaw  Mountain,  Ga.,  and 
return  to  Massachusetts,  he  entered  the  law  office 
of  Judge  W.  S.  Shurtleff  of  Springfield,  his  former 
Colonel,  and  from  there  went  to  the  University  of 
Albany,  N.  Y.,  where  he  graduated  on  examination. 
The  Albany  University  conferred  on  him  the  degree  of 
LL.  B.  But  his  education  was  but  partially  begun.  For 
all  the  years  of  law  practice,  of  foreign  travel,  of  editorial 
and  ministerial  life,  he  has  ever  been  at  his  books.  He 
learned  to  read  five  different  languages  in  the  daily 
rides  on  the  steam  and  horse  cars,  between  his  home  in 
Newton  Centre,  Mass.,  and  his  office  in  Boston. 

Some  of  the  most  difficult  sciences  he  mastered  alone 
on  steam  cars,  or  in  stage  coaches,  while  journeying  as 
a  correspondent  in  distant  countries,  or  in  distant 
American  states.  A  professor  at  Oberlin  College  has 
preserved  as  a  curiosity,  an  autograph  book  which  was 
handed  to  Mr.  Conwell  at  the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1878, 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  35 

and    in    which    Mr.    Conwell    wrote    impromptu    t 
verses  of  "Mary  had  a  little  lamb,"  in  seven  different 
languages. 

[His  establishment  of  the  Temple  College,  Philadel- 
phia, for  workingmen,  is  said  to  have  grown  out  of  the 
desire  of  a  class  of  young  men,  to  get  directions  fn  m 
him,  how  to  study  at  home  and  during  spare  hours. — 
Ed.] 

He  tried  to  learn  something  of  every  man  he  met, 
and  from  every  new  thing  he  saw. 

He  did  not  appear  to  be  systematic,  but  persistent, 
His  motto  written  in  autograph  books,  but  more  clearly 
written  in  his  character,  is  Perseverentia  Vincit,  "  Per- 
severance Conquers."  Surely  his  life  proves  the  old 
proverb  to  be  true. 

When  he  began  his  theological  studies,  I  do  not 
know,  but  it  was  many  years  before  he  entered  the  min- 
istry, for  I  remember  being  told  by  his  father  as  early 
as  1867  that  Russell  was  collecting  a  theological  library, 
and  sending  to  Germany  for  a  number  of  books  on  the 
subject,  which  were  delayed  in  the  Boston  Custom 
House.  In  1865  when  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in 
the  Supreme  Court  of  New  York,  he  is  said  to  have 
had  a  Greek  New  Testament  in  his  overcoat  pocket. 
The  same  evening  when  he  was  admitted  in  1875  to 
practice  in  the  United  States  Supreme  Court  at  Wash- 
ington, he  delivered  an  address  in  that   city  on    the 


36  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

branches  taught  in  the  old  school  of  the  prophets.  He 
was  regarded  as  a  scholar  in  theology,  and  gathered 
about  him  in  Boston  several  hundred  students  who 
wished  to  listen  to  his  exposition  of  the  scriptures,  be- 
fore he  intended  to  enter  the  ministry.  Living  at  New- 
ton Centre,  Mass.,  the  seat  of  a  celebrated  theological 
seminary  of  the  Baptist  denomination,  he  was  brought 
into  intimate  relations  with  some  of  the  best  minds,  and 
with  some  of  the  profoundest  biblical  scholars.  His 
chief  interest  for  some  years  centered  in  Christian  an- 
tiquities. He  gathered  from  all  parts  of  the  old  world 
photographs  of  the  ancient  manuscripts,  and  of  sacred 
places,  and  kept  up  a  frequent  correspondence  with 
many  professors  and  explorers  interested  in  that  sub- 
ject. He  often  lectured  in  schools  and  colleges  on 
Archaeological  subjects,  with  illustrations  prepared  for 
the  calcium  light  under  his  own  supervision.  When 
his  library  was  destroyed  by  fire,  the  greatest  loss 
was  in  valuable  theological  works.  His  theological 
course  at  the  Newton  Theological  Seminary  was  wholly 
elective,  and  maintained  together  with  a  multitude  of 
active  business  and  pastoral  duties.  He  is  a  man  who 
always  finds  work  enough  to  do,  and  cannot  be  said  to 
be  ever  idle.  He  left  the  Newton  Institution  in  1881 
when  he  gave  himself  wholly  to  the  ministerial  office. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    ORATOR. 

Speaking  at  eight  years  of  age — Organizer  of  a  debating 
society  at  twelve — A  natural  musician — Ambition  to 
be  an  actor — His  nervousness  whe?i  expecting  to  speak 
— Address  in  Whitman  Hall,  Westfield — Address  in 
Leeds,  England — Removal  to  Mimiesota — The  failure 
of  his  health — Openitig  a  law  office  at  Boston — Forced 
to  the  platform  in  political  campaigns — No  apparent 
effort  at  oratorical  effect — His  celebrated  lecture  deliv- 
ered one  thousand  times. 

FOR  some  years  I  preserved  the  newspapers  and 
pamphlets   containing    Mr.   Conwell's  speeches. 
But  the  number  grew  so  fast  that  I  gave   up  the 
idea.     But  I  need  not  copy  them,  as  probably  nearly  all 
my  comrades   are  acquainted  with  those  which  most 
interested  me. 

Russell  was  always  an  orator.  He  was  born  so.  His 
mother  said  that  before  he  could  speak  plainly  he  was 
constantly  delivering  imaginary  sermons  to  the  cat  or 
pigs.  And  one  day  when  he  was  but  six  years  old,  she 
overheard  him  delivering  an  oration  to  the  astonished 


38  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

rooster  on  the  fence.  He  was  brought  out  on  all  occa- 
sions, and  was  a  necessity  to  the  school  exhibitions  and 
anniversaries.  Often  whenever  he  was  left  alone  he 
would  begin  addressing  an  unseen  audience,  and  blushed 
to  the  ears  when  suddenly  overheard.  He  talked  to 
the  trees,  to  the  corn  stalks,  to  the  potato  tops,  and 
anathematized  the  weeds  before  he  cut  them  down. 

When  he  was  but  eight  years  of  age,  during  a  time 
of  local  excitement  over  some  question  concerning 
Spiritualism,  a  crowded  audience  gathered  in  the  Metho- 
dist Church  to  listen  to  his  address.  He  was  not  more 
than  twelve  years  of  age  when  he  was  the  foremost 
organizer  of  a  debating  society  which  met  every  week 
in  the  district  school-house. 

There  with  grown  men  he  held  his  own  in  debate, 
and  was  listened  to  with  surprise  and  respect.  The 
green,  awkward  country  boy,  with  torn  hat  and  patched 
knees,  was  talked  about  up  and  down  the  valleys. 
Fortunately  for  the  boy,  his  parents  had  the  good  sense 
to  avoid  praising  him.  Sometimes  his  father  gave  him 
severe  whippings  for  his  literary  lampoons. 

He  was  a  natural  musician,  and  easily  mastered  any 
instrument,  and  as  a  boy,  was  esteemed  by  us  country 
people  as  a  good  singer. 

For  some  years  he  was  the  chief  reliance  as  a  player, 
on  whatever  instrument  was  handiest  for  the  dance,  at 
young  peoples  parties  and  balls.     At  the  time  he  taught 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE  S    NEST.  39 

school  he  was  also  an  excellent  music  teacher,  and 
many  of  his  scholars  are  still  living,  and  playing  or 
singing.  But  he  often  composed  both  words  and  music 
to  songs  having  local  hits,  and  often  sharply  sarcastic. 
Any  local  gossip,  or  practical  joke  awoke  his  muse,  and 
a  fearful  raking  some  of  the  people  received  in  song. 
It  was  for  these  dreaded  ballads  that  Russell's  father 
often  used  the  birch  stick.  But  it  did  no  good.  The 
very  next  night  some  original  song,  which  hurt  unin- 
tentionally, some  old  lady's  feelings,  would  convulse 
the  listeners  as  he  sat  at  the  parlor  organ,  or  drew  the 
bow  of  the  violin.  It  was  the  cause  of  many  heart- 
burnings. 

A  good  story  about  him  appeared  in  the  Philadelphia 
papers  in  1883  which  shows  that  the  early  traits  are  not 
extinct.  He  still  has  the  faculty  of  composing  words 
and  music,  and  uses  it  often  in  his  church  work.  He 
was  engaged  in  writing  out  something  of  the  kind  that 
summer  day,  on  the  great  pier  at  Cape  May,  N.  J.  A 
band  from  New  York  were  on  the  pier  practicing  for 
their  evening  playing,  and  the  cornetist  went  fishing. 
The  cornet  lay  on  a  seat  near  Mr.  Conwell  and  he  took 
it  up  and  played  from  his  notes  to  try  his  composition. 
Then  suddenly  recalling  an  old  air,  he  broke  out  into 
a  solo  that  attracted  the  attention  of  all  the  people 
about  the  pier.  He  then  laid  down  the  instrument  and 
walked  away.     About  an  hour  later  one  of  the  band, 


40  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

not  knowing  who  Mr.  Conwell  was,  accosted  him  at 
his  cottage  gate  and  offered  him  five  dollars,  and  then 
ten  dollars  to  play  for  him,  as  a  substitute,  in  the  ball 
at  Congress  Hall. 

These  songs  of  his  boyhood  were  often  recited  by 
him  on  public  occasions.  But  in  those  early  days  his 
great  ambition  was  to  be  an  actor.  His  greatest  delight 
was  in  dialogues  and  theatrical  performances.  Alas, 
the  little  country  church  up  there  on  the  hill-top  has 
seen  many  a  theatrical  play,  on  the  improvised  stage 
built  over  its  altar  rail  for  a  school  exhibition.  Old 
saints  laughed  till  they  cried  at  Russell's  acting,  and 
unintentionally  encouraged  him  in  his  foolish  ambition. 

In  some  one  of  his  lectures  delivered  years  ago  Mr. 
Conwell  related  how  he  was  cured  of  the  mania,  and 
as  near  as  I  remember  it  was  in  this  way. 

One  spring,  during  the  maple  sugar  season,  when  he 
was  driving  back  and  forth  from  the  mountains  to  the 
Huntington  Station  on  the  Boston  and  Albany  Railroad,, 
carting  maple  sugar,  he  left  the  seat  of  his  wagon  at 
home.  On  his  way  back  he  was  compelled  to  drive  the 
horse  and  stand  up  in  the  rickety  old  wagon  with  no 
support.  It  is  a  difficult  thing  to  do  in  most  favorable 
circumstances.  About  five  miles  down  in  the  deep 
valley  below  his  home  was  a  very  dense  piece  of  wood- 
land. The  road  which  ran  through  it  was  a  very  lone- 
some place.     When  entering  that  wood  Russell  drove 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  41 

the  old  horse  at  a  trot,  and  thought  it  would  be  a  good 
place  to  practice  his  part  in  the  next  theatrical  per- 
formance. 

His  chosen  part  was  that  of  an  insane  person  who 
rushed  in  to  interrupt  some  love  scene,  by  saying, 
"  Woe  !  woe  !  unto  you  all,  ye  children  of  men  !  "  So 
Russell  stood  up  in  the  wagon  behind  the  trotting  horse 
holding  the  loose  reins,  and  shouted  out,  "  Woe  !  woe  ! " 
The  obedient  horse  thought  it  was  a  most  imperative 
command  to  stop.  He  did  stop  instantly.  Over  Rus- 
sell went  like  an  arrow.  He  fell  upon  the  horse's  back, 
and  slid  down  head  first  upon  the  shaft,  and  sprawled 
out  in  four  inches  deep  of  spring  mud.  In  falling  he 
cut  his  forehead  on  the  step  fastened  to  the  shaft,  and 
the  scar  on  his  head  is  still  plainly  to  be  seen.  It  bled 
profusely,  and  his  appearance  in  mud  and  blood  caused 
his  father  to  make  fun  of  him  so  persistently  that  he 
was  ashamed  to  appear  in  the  piece.  He  never  took 
part  in  such  plays  after  that.     He  stooped  to  conquer. 

Notwithstanding  his  love  of  public  speaking,  he  was 
always  as  nervous  as  a  child  whenever  expecting  to 
speak  in  public.  One  of  his  classmates  at  Wilbraham, 
and  a  member  with  him  of  a  debating  society,  there 
called  "The  Club,''  told  me  at  the  time  when  Mr.  Con- 
well  delivered  the  oration  at  the  dedication  of  the 
soldiers'  monument  at  Billerica,  Mass.,  of  the  first  time 
Russell  as  a  boy  appeared  in  a  debate  at  the  Wilbraham 


42  SCALING   THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 

school.  He  had  written  out  or  thought  out  and  com- 
mitted to  memory  a  long  speech,  and  as  usual  with 
school  boys,  quoted  Patrick  Henry. 

But  all  he  could  say  in  his  confusion  on  being  called 
up  unexpectedly  soon,  was  to  stammer  out,  after  many 
struggles  and  tears,  "Give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death." 
The  incident  was  published  in  the  column  of  jokes  in 
the  Springfield  Republican  soon  after,  in  1859.  But 
he  soon  became  the  leader  in  debate,  and  among  many 
boys  who  have  since  become  successful  men,  he  took 
the  foremost  position  as  a  speaker.  Like  John  B. 
Gough,  whom  Mr.  Conwell  somewhat  resembles,  and 
who  was  many  years  his  firm  friend,  Mr.  Conwell  has 
never  wholly  overcome  that  nervous  sensitiveness  when 
he  is  about  to  address  an  audience. 

In  the  law  schools  Russell  seldom  appeared  in  the 
moot  courts  or  debates.  He  was  too  poor  to  dress  to 
his  taste,  and  for  that  reason  shunned  all  publicity. 
But  when  the  war  opened  in  1861,  although  he  was  but 
seventeen  years  of  age,  he  suddenly  became  famous  in 
Western  Massachusetts  as  a  patriotic  speaker. 

It  was  a  wonderful  thing,  and  drew  crowds  of  excited 
listeners  wherever  he  went.  Towns  sent  for  him  to 
help  them  raise  their  quotas  of  soldiers,  and  the  ranks 
speedily  filled  before  his  inspiring  and  patriotic  speeches. 
In  1862  I  remember  a  scene  at  Whitman  Hall  in  West- 
field,  Mass.,  which  none  who  were  there  can  forget. 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  43 

Russell  had  delivered  two  addresses  there  before.  On 
that  night  there  were  two  addresses  before  his  by  prom- 
inent lawyers,  but  there  was  evident  impatience  to  hear 
"  The  boy."  When  he  came  forward  there  was  the  most 
deafening  applause.  He  really  seemed  inspired  by 
miraculous  powers.  Every  auditor  was  fascinated  and 
held  closely  bound.  There  was  for  a  time  breathless 
suspense,  and  then  at  some  telling  sentence  the  whole 
building  shook  with  wild  applause.  At  its  close  a 
shower  of  bouquets  from  hundreds  of  ladies  carpeted 
the  stage  in  a  moment,  and  men  from  all  parts  of  the 
hall  rushed  forward  to  enlist.  The  keeper  of  the  Park 
Hotel  says  that  he  had  the  bouquets  brought  from  the 
hall  in  large  clothes  hampers.  Mr.  Conwell  was  the  idol 
of  the  Westfield  public  for  the  time,  and  it  is  a  wonder 
that  the  boy  retained  his  senses.  Every  one  said  it  would 
make  him  vain,  and  hinder  his  success,  but  still  kept 
up  their  praise.  During  his  service  in  the  war  he  could 
not  have  had  many  opportunities  to  speak  except  in 
addressing  meetings  of  soldiers  which  were  seldom 
held.  In  1863  or  1864  I  think,  when  he  re-enlisted 
after  one  term  of  service,  he  delivered  his  first  lyceum 
lecture.  Then  he  began  that  public  career  as  a  popular 
lecturer  which  has  made  him  so  well  known  in  the 
United  States  and  in  England.  His  lecture  that 
evening  was  on  some  historical  subject,  bearing  on 
the    benefits    of    previous    wars,    and    was    delivered 


44  SCALING  TUB   eagle's  nest. 

for  the  students  of  Mt.  Holyoke  Seminary  in  Hadley, 
Mass. 

I  heard  Mr.  Conwell  say  some  years  ago  that  the  lec- 
ture was  a  failure  financially,  and  in  delivery.  Perhaps 
a  failure  then  was  the  best  thing  that  could  happen  to 
him,  beginning  so  young.  Many  young  heads  have 
been  turned  to  foolishness  by  early  success. 

But  in  the  beginning  of  his  public  work  as  an  orator 
there  appeared  the  great  influence  of  the  musical  train- 
ing, and  the  most  attractive  thing  about  it  perhaps, 
then,  was  the  thoughts  awakened  and  the  impressions 
made  by  the  musical  changes  and  tones  in  his  voice. 
When  he  delivered  an  address  in  Leeds,  England,  in 
1870,  on  the  "Old  and  New  England,"  a  critic  writing 
for  the  London  Telegraph  said:  "  The  young  man  is 
weirdly  like  his  native  hills.  You  can  hear  the  cas- 
cades and  the  trickling  streams  in  his  tone  of  voice. 
He  has  a  strange  and  unconscious  power  of  so  modu- 
lating his  voice  as  to  suggest  the  howl  of  the  tempest 
in  rocky  declivities,  or  the  soft  echo  of  music  in  distant 
valleys.  There  would  be  great  difference  of  opinion 
about  his  cleverness  as  a  debater,  but  the  breezy  fresh- 
ness and  natural  suggestiveness  of  varied  nature  in  its 
wild  state  was  completely  fascinating.  He  excelled  in 
description,  and  the  auditor  could  almost  hear  the 
Niagara  roll  as  he  described  it,  and  listened  to  catch 
the  sound  of  sighing  pines  in  his  voice  as  he  told  of  the 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  45 

Carolinas.     He  was  so  unlike   any  other  speaker,  so 
completely  natural  that  his  blunders  disarmed  criticism." 

After  the  war  he  went  to  Minnesota  and  stayed  for  a 
time  at  St.  Paul,  where  he  united  with  the  First  Baptist 
Church,  and  where  he  made  many  friends.  Afterwards 
he  moved  to  Minneapolis,  and  opened  a  law  and  real 
estate  office  in  that  marvellously  growing  city.  I  do 
not  know  much  of  his  career  there  as  a  public  speaker, 
although  I  have  heard  that  he  lectured  through  the 
state  and  took  such  an  active  part  in  political  cam- 
paigns and  temperance  contests,  as  to  make  many 
friends  and  also  some  bitter  enemies. 

In  his  Fourth  of  July  Oration  in  Springfield,  Mass., 
1875,  he  spoke  of  the  happy  days  in  Minnesota,  and 
made  that  well  remembered  eulogy  on  Minnesota,  that 
"  Garner  of  America's  noblest  men  and  women." 

After  the  failure  of  his  health  through  the  breaking 
out  of  wounds  while  running  to  the  fire  which  destroyed 
his  home,  he  was  obliged  to  leave  the  platform  for  a 
time,  and  became  an  extensive  traveler.  But  in  the 
Southern  States,  in  the  Western  States  and  Territories, 
in  California,  China  ports,  India  and  England  he  was 
often  compelled  to  deliver  addresses,  and  when  his 
health  returned,  and  he  opened  a  law  office  at  Boston, 
Mass.,  his  regular  work  as  a  platform  lyceum  lecturer 
became  an  established  profession.  For  fifteen  years 
he  has  been  well-known  and  eagerly  sought  for  through- 


46  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

out  the  New  England  and  the  Middle  States.  His  lec- 
tures on  science,  literature,  theology  and  travel,  were 
again  and  again  repeated  in  the  same  cities  and  towns. 
He  was  often  forced  to  the  platform  in  political  cam- 
paigns. 

During  all  this  time  he  was  continually  addressing 
Sunday-schools  on  special  occasions,  and  for  years 
delivered  lay  sermons  on  Sunday  evenings  for  missions 
and  destitute  churches.  It  was  as  a  lay  preacher  that 
he  began  his  work  in  Lexington,  Mass.,  where  he  was 
afterwards  ordained.  I  have  been  told  that  the  first 
Sabbath  he  preached  there  he  had  but  seventeen 
auditors,  but  in  a  few  weeks  the  house  was  crowded  to 
the  street  at  every  service. 

When  he  removed  to  Philadelphia,  he  began  again 
with  a  small  congregation  of  about  one  hundred,  and 
the  triumphs  which  have  followed  were  only  to  be  ex- 
pected by  his  old  acquaintances.  With  a  church  so 
crowded  that  public  safety  compelled  the  use  of  tickets 
of  admission  issued  long  in  advance,  and  with  a  pros- 
pective church  soon  to  be  completed  which  will  seat  in 
the  pews  between  four  and  five  thousand  people  he 
stands  where  all  of  us  expected  he  would  stand.  As  a 
preacher  he  has  the  same  fidelity  to  nature  and  is  as 
simple  and  as  earnest  as  a  child.  There  is  said  to  be 
no  apparent  effort  at  oratorical  effect.  He  rises  and 
falls  like  our  spring  floods,   and  never  wrote    out    a 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  47 

sermon  in  his  life  for  delivery.  He  is  different  from 
any  other  man.  He  can  be  compared  with  no  one, 
yet  not  called  eccentric.  He  speaks  for  some  definite 
object.  He  gains  it.  In  a  few  years  his  church  in 
Philadelphia  became  one  of  the  largest  in  the  country, 
and  as  a  pulpit  orator  he  is  now  well  known  throughout 
the  nation.  Through  what  winding  paths  America's 
greatest  men  reach  distinction  !  Mr.  Conwell's  char- 
acter and  oratory  is  a  constant  reproduction  of  our  New 
England  mountains,  cloud-capped,  granite  hills,  mag- 
nificent landscapes,  deep  valleys,  wild  woods,  cliffs, 
dashing  streams  and  autumn  grandeur,  all  appear  in 
varying  ways  in  Mr.  Conwell's  utterances.  He  is  fitly 
named  "The  Picturesque  Orator." 

Mr.  Conwell's  celebrated  lecture  entitled  "  Acres  of 
Diamonds,"  had  been  delivered  nearly  one  thousand 
times  in  1881,  and  that  is  but  one  of  a  long  list,  which 
he  delivers  in  his  winter  tours,  and  at  summer  com- 
mencements and  anniversaries.  At  Chautauqua  his 
addresses  draw  crowded  audiences,  and  when  he 
lectured  in  the  Mormon  Tabernacle  at  Salt  Lake  City, 
on  "  Men  of  the  Mountains,"  it  is  said  that  before  the 
sale  was  stopped,  over  twelve  thousand  purchased 
tickets  to  hear  him  on  one  evening.  His  correspon- 
dence, answering  applications  for  addresses,  lectures 
and  sermons,  reach  often  a  hundred  letters  a  day. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE    AUTHOR. 


He  edits  the  Minneapolis  Chronicle — He  writes  for  the 
Boston  Traveller — He  is  engaged  as  a  regular  corres- 
pondent for  London  and  New  York  papers — His  first 
book,  "  Why  and  how  the  Chinese  emigrate'' — Memo- 
rial services  of  Bayard  Taylor — Longfellow's  poem — 
List  of  Mr.  Conw ell's  books. 

1AM  not  altogether  sure  that  I  have  seen  all  of  Mr. 
ConwelPs  books,  and  I  must  often  refer  to  the 
opinion  of  others.  His  descriptive  powers  as  a 
writer  were  first  exhibited  in  his  correspondence  for 
newspapers.  He  became  first  known  in  connection 
w7ith  his  own  paper,  the  Minneapolis  Chronicle,  which 
was  afterwards  merged  with  the  Atlas  into  the  Minne- 
apolis Tribune.  But  later,  when  he  wrote  a  remarkable 
series  of  letters  for  the  Boston  Traveller,  his  success 
became  permanent.  He  visited  all  the  battle  fields  of 
the  Civil  War  in  the  Southern  States  and  described 
their  appearance  five  years  after  the  war.  The  letters 
were  copied  throughout  the  country,  and  "  Russell's 
Letters  from  the  Battle  Fields  "  were  regularly  seen  in 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  49 

all  parts  of  the  land,  copied  from  the  Traveller  entire. 
He  identified  many  graves  and  many  skeletons,  and 
corrected  many  historical  errors. 

He  gathered  a  large  collection  of  mementoes  from 
the  battle  fields,  which  people  in  the  North  and  the 
South  recognized  as  belonging  to  their  friends  and 
loved  ones.  His  descriptions  were  so  vivid  that  old 
soldiers  would  exclaim  as  they  read,  "  That's  where  I 
stood,"  or,  "  I  can  see  the  whole  battle  again."  Those 
letters  called  attention  to  him  in  other  places,  and 
he  was  soon  engaged  as  a  regular  correspondent  for 
London  and  New  York  papers.  His  letter  from  Hong 
Kong,  China,  to  the  New  York  Tribune  on  "  Chinese 
Emigration  "  innocently  caused  some  diplomatic  diffi- 
culty through  the  exposure  of  the  labor  contract  system. 
One  of  his  letters  to  the  Boston  Traveller  in  1870 
contained  the  widely  known  account  of  the  gambling- 
house  and  the  reforming  influence  of  Miss  Carey's 
hymn  : 

"  One  sweetly  solemn  thought 
Comes  to  me  o'er  and  o'er, 

I'm  nearer  my  home  to-day 
Than  I've  ever  been  before." 

The  story  is  published  in  full  in  "  Butterfield's  Story  of 
the  Hymns,"  and  in  "  Long's  History  of  Hymns,"  and 
in  many  other  books.  The  reform  of  the  rough  old 
sailor  by  hearing  his  young  companion  sing  those  words 


5<D  SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 

carelessly  has  had  an  indirect  influence  in  saving  many 
young  men  from  crime. 

Mr.  Conwell's  description  of  the  Himalaya  Moun- 
tains, a  magazine  article  published  in  1872,  was  care- 
fully preserved  by  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  and  quoted  by 
him  in  an  address  in  New  Hampshire  in  1879.  When 
Mr.  Conwell  returned  home  in  187 1  from  a  tour  entirely 
around  the  world,  Lee  &  Shepard  of  Boston  published 
his  first  book,  entitled,  "Why  and  How  the  Chinese 
Emigrate."  The  book  had  a  large  sale  in  this  country 
owing  to  the  fame  of  Mr.  Conwell's  letters  and  the 
excitement  over  Chinese  emigration.  But  the  book  was 
nearly  spoiled  by  the  artist  who  illustrated  it  in  a  manner 
almost  grotesque.     The  book  is  out  of  print  now. 

Soon  afterwards  a  Boston  firm  published  a  volume 
written  by  him  on  "  Woman  and  the  Law."  The  book 
contained  a  collection  of  facts  and  legal  decisions,  and  a 
discussion  of  the  rights  women  had  under  the  law  which 
men  did  not  enjoy.  It  caused  a  heated  debate  in  the 
Massachusetts  Legislature.  The  woman  suffragists  were 
at  first  incensed  at  the  author.  I  will  not  say  much  about 
it  lest  I  awaken  a  subject  that  Mr.  Conwell  may  be  glad 
is  dead.     No  one  tried  to  refute  his  data,  however. 

After  that  several  volumes  were  published,  and  among 
them  "The  History  of  the  Great  Fire  in  Boston,"  "The 
History  of  the  Great  Fire  in  St.  John,"  "  The  Life  of 
Rutherford  B.   Hayes,"  and  "The   Life  of  James  A. 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 


5* 


Garfield,"'  Mr.  Conwell ,  had  been  a  traveling  com- 
panion of  Bayard  Taylor,  the  great  traveler,  and  was  in 
intimate  correspondence  with  Mr.  Taylor  the  year  of 
his  death,  while  minister  to  Germany.  At  the  memorial 
services  held  at  Tremont  Temple,  Boston,  Mr.  Conwell 
was  called  upon  to  preside,  and  the  suggestions  of  that 
great  tribute  to  Mr.  Taylor  led  Mr.  Conwell  to  write  a 
book  upon  Mr.  Taylor's  life.  In  a  volume  of  Mr. 
ConwelPs  sermons  I  have  found  the  following  reference 
to  that  memorial  occasion  : 

"  When  Bayard  Taylor,  the  traveler  and  poet,  died, 
great  sorrow  was  felt  and  exhibited  by  the  people  of 
this  nation.  I  remember  well  the  sadness  that  was 
noticed  in  the  city  of  Boston.  The  spontaneous  desire 
to  give  some  expression  to  the  respect  in  which  Mr. 
Taylor's  name  was  held,  pressed  the  literary  people  of 
Boston,  both  writers  and  readers,  forward  to  a  public 
memorial  gathering.  That  audience  of  the  scholarly 
classes  was  a  wonderful  tribute  to  a  remarkable  man, 
and  one  for  which  I  feel  still  a  keen  sense  of  gratitude. 
I  remember  asking  Mr.  Longfellow  to  write  a  poem  and 
to  read  it ;  and,  standing  on  the  broad  step  at  his  front 
door  in  Cambridge,  he  replied  to  my  suggestion  with 
the  sweet  expression,  'The  universal  sorrow  is  almost 
too  sacred  to  touch  with  a  pen.' 

"  But  when  the  evening  came,  although  Professor 
Longfellow  was  too  ill  to  be  present,  his  poem  was 


52  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

there.  The  great  hall  was  crowded  with  the  most 
cultivated  people  of  Boston.  On  the  platform  sat  many 
of  the  poets,  orators  and  philosophers  who  have  since 
passed  into  the  beyond.  When,  after  several  speeches 
had  been  made,  I  arose  to  introduce  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes,  the  pressure  of  the  crowd  was  too  great  for  me 
to  reach  my  chair  again,  and  I  took  for  a  time  the  seat 
which  Dr.  Holmes  had  just  left,  and  next  to  Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson.  Never  were  words  of  poet  listened 
to  with  a  silence  more  respectfully  profound  than  were 
the  words  of  Professor  Longfellow's  poem  as  they  were 
so  touchingly  and  beautifully  read  by  Dr.  Holmes. 

'  Dead  he  lay  among  his  books, 
The  peace  of  God  was  in  his  looks  I 

Let  the  lifeless  body  rest, 
He  is  gone  who  was  its  guest, — 
Gone  as  travelers  haste  to  leave 
An  inn,  nor  tarry  until  eve  ! 
Traveler,  in  what  realms  afar, 
In  what  planet,  in  what  star, 
In  what  vast  aerial  space, 
Shines  the  light  upon  thy  face? 
In  what  gardens  of  delight 
Rest  thy  weary  feet  to-night  ? ' 
*  #  *  *  * 

Before  Dr.  Holmes  resumed  his  seat,  Mr.  Emerson 
whispered  in  my  ear,  in  his  epigrammatic  style,  '  This 
is  holy  Sabbath  time.'  " 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  53 

The  "  Life  of  Bayard  Taylor  "  was  hastily  written  for 
a  subscription  sale.  It  had  no  marked  literary  merit, 
but  reached  a  great  sale  through  agents.  That  volume 
was  followed  by  an  enlarged  edition  of  John  S.  C. 
Abbott's  "Lives  of  the  Presidents,"  published  by  E.  C. 
Allen,  of  Augusta,  Me.  Mr.  Conwell  was  a  friend  of 
Mr.  Abbott,  and  was  a  fitting  person  to  bring  up  the 
history  to  the  present  time.  That  book  is  still  greatly 
in  demand.  During  the  political  campaign  of  1880 
Mr.  ConwelPs  publishers  brought  out  a  "  Life  of  James 
G.  Blaine,"  which  was  very  popular,  but  too  hastily 
prepared  to  have  a  long  demand. 

Since  his  residence  in  Philadelphia  the  Baptist  Pub- 
lication  Society  have  issued  a  volume  written  by  him 
on  "  Joshua  Gianavello."  It  is  a  sketchy  biography  of 
that  great  Waldensian  chieftain,  and  vividly  portrays 
the  manners  and  heroism  of  those  terrible  days  of 
religious  persecution. 

[Since  the  above  was  written  the  Miller  Magee  Co. 
of  Philadelphia  have  published  a  large  volume  by  his 
pen,  with  the  title  of  "  Acres  of  Diamonds."  It  is 
written  on  the  same  plan  and  with  the  same  funda- 
mental ideas  as  his  popular  lecture  of  the  same  name. 
It  gives  direction  and  encouragement  to  a  worthy  am- 
bition to  become  great  or  honestly  wealthy.  It  will 
live  in  the  market  beyond  this  generation.] 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    SOLDIER. 

Drilling  the  schoolboys — Not  permitted  to  entlist  on  account 
of  his  age —  Studied  military  tactics  for  the  sake  of 
knowing — Elected  captaifi  by  unani?nous  vote — His 
enthusiastic  and  patriotic  address  —  Oration  delivered 
in  Springfield — He  is  presented  with  a  costly  sword — 
Battle  at  Kingston — Battle  at  Goldsboro — The  march 
through  the  swamp — A  night  attack — Bravery  of  Or- 
derly Spencer — Caring  for  his  soldiers  —Reckless  dis- 
regard of  army  orders — The  battle  at  Newport  Bar- 
racks— Brave  Johnny  Ring — Saving  the  captain's 
sword — Persecution — Promotion — In  the  western  army 
—  Wounded  at  Kennesaw — Leaving  the  service — Suf- 
fering from  wounds. 

TO  his  comrades  I  am  sure  this  record  will  be  a 
welcome  message,  for  the  call  for  some  memorial 
account  has  been  most  imperative.     The  young 
soldier  whom  we  learned  to  admire,  and  many  of  us 
to  deeply  love,  may  be  too  far  up  in  the  ascents  of 
fame    and  greatness  to   be  affected   by  it.      It   is  a 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  55 

simple  tribute  at  the  best,  and  from  one  little  ac- 
quainted with  such  writing.  But  a  soldier's  heart  beats 
in  sincere  friendship,  and  that  is  the  motive  for  writ- 
ing these  pages.  It  is  but  a  few  months  since  I 
saw  an  old  wooden  sword  which  had  been  lying 
about  the  old  Conwell  homestead  ever  since  Russell 
was  ten  years  old.  He  made  it  out  of  a  board,  and 
paraded  up  and  clown  the  barnyard  with  it,  giving 
orders  to  his  troops  of  calves,  sheep  and  poultry.  He 
saw  a  Fourth  of  July  parade  at  Springfield,  Mass., 
in  his  boyhood,  and  ever  after  kept  organizing  the 
school  boys  into  military  companies.  There  was  one 
company  bearing  the  strange  name  of  "  Silence  "  or- 
ganized and  decorated  with  badges  by  him.  Mr. 
Austin  Hancock  of  Huntington,  Mass.,  one  of  our 
best  loved  comrades,  still  recalls  the  contract  for  the 
badges. 

Russell  was  but  a  boy  when  the  war  broke  out,  and 
it  seems  now  so  strange  that  old  men  would  have  been 
willing  to  be  led  into  battle  under  the  command  of 
such  a  country  boy.  Rut  it  was  his  fascinating  elo- 
quence which  won  him  the  hearts  of  all.  If  the  war 
had  been  ten  years  later  Mr.  Conwell  would  have  worn 
a  star  instead  of  a  silver  leaf.  I  well  remember  when 
our  regiment  [the  46th  Mass.]  was  being  recruited  how 
absurd  it  seemed  to  us  older  men  to  think  of  his  ap- 
pointment as  an  officer,  until  we  heard  him  speak.     He 


56  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

was  mentioned  by  the  men  for  lieutenant,  for  captain, 
for  major  and  by  a  few  for  colonel,  and  I  think  he  was 
only  eighteen  years  old. 

He  had  enlisted  as  a  private  in  the  27th  Massachusetts 
Regiment  and  was  refused  on  account  of  his  age.  But 
when  he  enlisted  as  a  private  in  the  46th  the  govern- 
ment needed  men  and  was  less  particular  about  the  age. 
The  boy  was  in  demand  in  several  places  as  an  officer, 
because  he  had  improved  his  time  at  school  and  studied 
the  tactics  until  he  could  order  any  maneuvers.  It  was 
just  like  him.  He  did  not  expect  to  command,  but 
he  took  a  book  of  military  tactics  in  his  pocket  and 
studied  the  movements  and  orders  just  for  the  sake  of 
knowing.  So  when  the  urgent  call  came  from  President 
Lincoln  for  "  one  hundred  thousand  more  "  he  could 
drill  a  company  or  regiment  like  an  old  officer.  I  re- 
member how  the  first  time  we  assembled  as  a  company, 
we  were  all  completely  astonished  to  find  that  boy 
perfectly  at  home  in  military  tactics.  We  were  proud 
of  him.  We  wanted  him  for  our  captain.  There  was 
no  rival.  No  one  thought  of  canvassing  for  the  office 
against  him.  He  was  elected  captain  by  a  unanimous 
vote.  A  committee  was  appointed  to  wait  on  Gover- 
nor Andrew,  to  persuade  him  to  commission  Russell, 
and  overcome  the  objection  on  account  of  his  youth. 
Russell  has  always  loved  these  mountains,  but  no 
better  than   we   mountaineers  have   loved  him.     The 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  57 

company  of  which  he  was  chosen  captain  was  composed 
of  men  from  Worthington,  Plainfield,  Chesterfield,  Hunt- 
ington, Chester,  Middlefield,  Russell  and  Blandford ; 
those  towns  being  the  most  rugged  and  mountainous 
in  this  part  of  the  state.  So  the  company  was  naturally 
called  "  The  Mountain  Boys,"  and  went  by  that  title 
ever  afterwards.  "  The  Boy  Captain  of  the  Mountain 
Boys  "  was  often  pointed  out  as  a  curiosity  in  the  valley 
villages,  after  he  had  donned  his  first  uniform.  The 
rendezvous  of  the  company  was  at  Huntington,  Mass. 
There  a  grand  banquet  was  given  to  the  soldiers 
before  their  departure  for  the  war.  At  the  table  Rus- 
sell made  one  of  his  enthusiastic  and  patriotic  ad- 
dresses, and  so  many  men  endeavored  to  enlist  in 
the  company  after  the  limit  was  reached,  that  even 
Russell's  own  brother  had  to  go  with  the  overflow  into 
another  company. 

In  an  oration  delivered  at  the  Opera  House  in 
Springfield,  at  the  reunion  of  his  regiment  in  1873, 
Mr.  Conwell  referred  with  much  feeling  to  that  day. 
He  said  that  war  was  at  that  time  a  hard,  fierce  fact, 
and  men  who  enlisted  then  knew  it  meant  hardship  and 
many  probabilities  of  death.  But  they  pressed  into 
the  service. 

Oh,  that  first  night  in  bivouac  at  Camp  Banks  in  the 
Connecticut  Valley,  near  Springfield  !  Hungry,  cold. 
The  ground  for  a  bed,  a  spadeful  of  earth  for  a  pillow. 


58  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

It  was  a  rough  beginning  of  soldier  life.  Russell 
loaned  his  new  military  overcoat  to  a  boy  soldier  by  the 
name  of  Porter,  and  rolled  himself  in  a  tent  cloth. 
But  the  regiment  was  composed  of  earnest  business 
men  from  the  valleys,  and  hardy  farmers  from  the 
mountains,  and  hardships  did  not  dampen  their 
patriotism. 

Colonel  Bowler,  a  preacher  from  Westfield,  was  the 
commander.  Colonel  W.  S.  ShurtlefT,  who  has  since 
been  one  of  the  best  judges  Massachusetts  has  ever 
commissioned,  was  the  lieutenant  colonel.  Colonel 
Walkley,  of  Westfield,  was  then  major.  Colonel 
Bowler's  resignation  soon  after  we  reached  North 
Carolina,  led  to  the  promotion  of  all,  and  brought 
Captain  Spooner,  since  Mayor  of  Springfield,  up  to 
the  rank  of  major.  Our  company  was  lettered  F,  and 
held  that  place  in  the  line  throughout  that  term  of 
service. 

No  surviving  comrade  of  the  regiment  can  forget  the 
day  when  the  soldiers  presented  Captain  Conwell  with 
that  costly  sword.  There  was  a  stand  erected  in  the 
camp,  and  Colonel  Shurtleff,  I  think,  made  the  speech 
of  presentation.  Captain  ConwelFs  reply  was  surpass- 
ingly eloquent.  The  shining  gold  sheath  glittered  in 
the  sun,  and  the  decorated  handle  gleamed  most 
brightly  ;  but  it  was  outshone  by  brilliant  words.  The 
deep  hush  and  the  following  cheers  were  not  to  be  for- 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  59 

gotten.     On  the  sword  were  inscribed  these  words  of 
affection  : 


Presented  to  Captain  Russell  H.  Conwell  by  the 
soldiers  of  Company  F,  46th  Mass.  Vol.  Militia, 
known  as  "  The  Mountain  Boys."  Vera  Amicitia 
est  semfiiterna.    [True  friendship  is  eternal.] 


The  subsequent  sad  history  of  the  sword  has  made 
it  a  precious  keepsake,  and  Mr.  Conwell,  I  am  told, 
keeps  it  hanging  over  his  bed  where  he  can  look  upon 
it  every  day. 

The  regiment,  after  breaking  camp,  went  by  train  to 
Boston,  where  it  was  received  by  the  Governor,  and 
was  quartered  in  Faneuil  Hall,  the  "  Cradle  of  Liberty." 

The  secret  expedition  with  which  our  regiment  was 
connected  consisted  of  several  other  Massachusetts 
regiments,  including  the  44th  and  45th.  We  embarked 
in  Boston  harbor  just  as  a  great  equinoctial  storm  came 
on.  The  gale  grew  so  wild  that  we  could  not  get  the 
steamer  out  to  sea,  and  with  much  difficulty  the  whole 
body  of  troops  was  landed,  to  wait  until  the  storm  was 
passed.  In  the  suffering  and  danger  of  that  beginning 
of  warlike  experiences,  Captain  Conwell  began  to  show 
the  material  of  which  he  was  made.  His  sympathy 
with  the  suffering  men  and  the  readiness  with  which 
he  divided  his  allowance  with  his  own  men  can  never 


60  SCALING   THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 

be  forgotten.  I  hear  it  mentioned  at  almost  every 
reunion  of  the  regiment.  But  he  paid  little  regard  for 
the  mere  formalities  of  military  life  from  the  first.  If 
he  wanted  a  thing,  he  went  for  it.  If  one  of  his  men 
needed  help,  Captain  Conwell  gave  it  without  regard 
to  military  rules.  No  captain  was  more  implicitly 
obeyed,  and  no  company  took  more  pride  in  their  drill 
and  appearance  on  parade.  If  the  captain  wished  it 
so,  it  was  all  we  wanted  to  know.  I  do  not  think  he 
ever  understood  how  his  soldiers  loved  him.  He  was 
tireless  in  looking  after  them.  He  must  have  given 
away  the  greater  part  of  his  salary  in  sutler  stores  for 
the  sick,  or  to  make  the  soldiers'  quarters  more  com- 
fortable. 

After  a  stormy  voyage  and  a  fearfully  sick  one  to 
many  of  the  men  who  had  never  seen  the  sea  before, 
we  rounded  Cape  Hatteras,  off  the  coast  of  North 
Carolina,  and  steamed  up  the  Neuse  River  to  Newbern, 
N.  C.  General  Burnside  had  already  captured  the 
town,  and  we  were  placed  under  command  of  Major 
General  J.  G.  Foster,  and  attached  to  a  brigade  with 
the  25th  and  27th  Massachusetts,  and  the  3d  and  5th 
Massachusetts.  General  Horace  C.  Lee,  colonel  of 
the  27th,  commanded  the  brigade.  After  several  weeks 
of  camp  and  garrison  duty,  our  companies  were  sent  off 
in  detachments  on  garrison  duty,  and  four  companies 
came  into  their  first  actual  contest  with  the  enemy  at 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  6l 

Batchelor's  Creek,  about  seven  miles  above  Newbern. 
But  the  severest  campaigning  of  that  winter  was  in  the 
"Goldsboro  expedition."  Almost  the  entire  marching 
force  of  the  army  at  that  point  was  on  that  march  into 
the  interior.  The  purpose  of  the  advance  was  to  cut 
the  Weldon  Railroad  at  Goldsboro,  N.  C,  in  conjunc- 
tion wi,th  a  general  advance  to  be  made  in  Virginia. 
It  was  indeed  a  hard  march,  but  with  short  and  uncer- 
tain halts  we  pushed  on,  and  with  only  occasional 
cavalry  skirmishes,  which  left  beside  the  road  the  first 
Confederates  we  had  ever  seen,  we  hurried  on  to 
Kingston,  N.  C,  on  the  Neuse  River.  There  came  the 
first  battle.  It  was  in  earnest.  The  enemy  held  the 
bridge,  and  intended  to  keep  it,  but  the  brave  charge 
made  by  the  9th  New  Jersey  and  the  10th  Connecticut 
secured  the  field.  The  woods  and  a  little  open  field 
near  an  old  negro  church  were  covered  with  the  dead 
and  dying.  What  an  awful  sight !  We  were  brought 
up  to  the  support  of  a  New  York  battery,  and  followed 
closely  the  retreating  enemy.  Tt  was  our  first  battle. 
It  caused  but  little  damage  to  our  regiment,  but  it 
brought  us  into  the  scenes  of  carnage  which  I  suppose 
no  soldier  feels  so  keenly  in  after  experience.  The 
groans,  the  ghastly  bodies,  the  streaming  blood,  the 
torn  bodies  !     Alas  for  war ! 

That  night  we  bivouacked  in  Kingston.    I  remember 
forgetting  the  scene  of  blood  in  chasing  up  and  down  a 


62  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

field  after  a  small,  black  pig  with  two  comrades,  with  a 
common  intention  of  giving  Captain  Conwell  a  slice  of 
fresh  pork,  cooked  over  a  camp  fire.  We  secured  the 
pig.  Captain  Conwell  had  a  large  slice,  but  it  may  be 
that  he  gave  it  away. 

When  the  troops  reached  the  Weldon  Railroad  at  the 
bridge  below  Goldsboro,  another  battle  was  fought. 
There  the  enemy  had  amassed  a  large  body  of  troops 
to  save  their  lines  of  communication  and  supplies.  The 
artillery  battle  was  terrific,  and  the  enemy  repeatedly 
charged  our  line.  I  recall  the  time  when  a  long  line  of 
gray  appeared  approaching  us  through  the  fields.  We 
were  ordered  to  lie  down,  so  that  the  shot  and  shell 
would  pass  over  us.  Our  batteries  were  on  a  knoll  a 
few  rods  in  advance  of  our  lines,  and  the  noise  of 
bursting  shell  was  hideous.  Captain  Conwell  walked 
forward  up  to  the  guns,  and  stood  there  in  the  smoke, 
exposed  to  the  fire  of  the  enemy,  then  close  upon  us. 
Many  of  us  remonstrated  with  him  for  the  useless  risk 
he  thoughtlessly  took.  The  battery  afterwards  invited 
him  to  their  quarters  to  dinner  on  their  return  to  New- 
bern.  I  remember  a  remark  Captain  Conwell  made  to 
Colonel  Walkley  after  one  of  the  successful  charges,  in 
which,  however,  we  had  only  a  minor  share.  The  regi- 
ments were  cheering,  and  our  regiment  was  called 
upon  for  three  cheers.  Captain  Conwell  did  not  join. 
Colonel  Walkley  asked  why  he  did  not  shout  with  the 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  63 

rest.     "Too  many  hearts  made   sad  to-day,"  was  his 
short  reply. 

As  was  often  the  case,  our  regiment  lost  more  men 
from  disease  and  exposure  than  in  battle  or  on  the  line. 
The  worst  experience  we  had  in  that  campaign  was  in 
what  was  afterwards  known  among  us  as  the  "Gum 
Swamp  expedition."  The  Confederates  had  begun  to 
erect  a  fort  and  lines  of  breastworks  at  a  station  on 
the  Newbern  Railroad,  about  thirty  miles  in  the  in- 
terior. We  were  ordered  to  dislodge  them.  The  forced 
march  in  the  advance  and  the  short  charge  which  drove 
the  enemy  out  of  their  uncompleted  works  were  but 
play  to  the  dreadful  experiences  of  the  retreat.  The 
prisoners  warned  us  not  to  leave  the  highway  in 
that  marshy  region,  but  the  shells  fell  too  thick  in  the 
road  and  the  rear-guard  were  so  continually  assailed, 
that  our  forces  were  ordered  to  take  a  line  of  march 
through  the  swamp.  Miles  and  miles  of  muck  and  tall 
grass,  into  which  we  sank  to  the  knees  at  every  step. 
Wading  in  black  water,  torn  by  thorns  and  brambles, 
without  food  and  no  place  to  rest,  we  marched  in  sick- 
ening exhaustion.  That  day  in  the  wild  swamp  wras  a 
fearful  experience.  Men  lay  down  in  the  water  and 
died,  unable  to  take  another  step.  Many  were  assisted 
by  branches  of  trees  out  of  the  water,  and  left  to  follow 
if  they  could.  Captain  Conwell  insisted  on  going  back 
into  the  swamp  after  two  of  our  men  who  had  straggled 


64  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

into  the  thicket  and  were  lost.  He  came  back  success- 
ful, but  without  his  hat,  and  with  his  uniform  torn  into 
rags  about  his  legs  and  thighs.  We  had  organized  a 
relief  expedition  to  go  after  him  when  he  appeared 
with  one  of  the  men,  while  the  other  had  been  left 
where  comrades  could  find  him  by  marks  on  the  trees 
leading  back.  Lieutenant  Charles  Fay  of  our  company 
rescued  the  survivor,  I  think.  How  indelible  all  those 
experiences  are  !  But  my  comrades  will  need  no  re- 
minder from  me.  < 

Our  term  of  service  was  filled  afterwards  with  monot- 
onous garrison  duty  until  near  the  close,  we  were 
ordered  into  Virginia  to  reinforce  the  army  then  en- 
deavoring to  keep  Lee  out  of  Pennsylvania.  But 
before  our  term  of  service  was  out,  General  Foster 
sent  for  Captain  Conwell,  and  offered  to  recommend 
him  for  promotion  to  the  colonelcy  in  command  of  a 
regiment  if  he  would  enter  at  once  upon  recruiting 
service  among  the  men  whose  term  was  about  to  expire. 
Captain  Conwell  accepted  the  offer,  but  so  many  of  his 
own  company  decided  to  re-enlist  with  him,  and  such 
jealous  objections  were  raised  about  his  youth,  that  he 
decided  to  accept  a  captain's  commission.  He  wrote 
to  the  governor  that  he  did  not  wish  to  contend  for  any 
other  place.  But  Captain  Conwell  was  taken  sick  with 
a  dangerous  fever,  and  by  the  time  the  2d  Massachu- 
setts Artillery  was  in  camp  at  Readville,  Mass.,  his  old 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  65 

comrades  were  mustered  in  and  new  officers  placed 
over  them.  He,  however,  accepted  the  command  of 
another  company  in  the  same  regiment,  with  the  under- 
standing that  his  former  comrades  should  be  transferred 
to  his  company  in  exchange  for  others.  But  the  dis- 
arrangement led  to  much  hard  feeling  among  the  men, 
and  the  transfer  was  never  made.  Captain  Conwell's 
new  men,  as  soon  as  they  met  him,  were  unwilling  to 
be  exchanged,  and  clung  to  him  with  the  same  affection 
as  had  been  seen  in  the  other  company.  It  appears, 
from  the  account  two  of  the  officers  have  written  for 
me,  that  the  inauspicious  beginning  was  but  an  augury 
of  the  difficulties,  jealousies  and  mistakes  which  were 
before  him  in  that  campaign.  He  must  have  been 
greatly  disappointed,  and  have  gone  to  the  field  reck- 
less and  humiliated.  His  men  were  almost  idolatrous 
in  their  devotion  to  him,  and  were  as  sensitive  and 
jealous  as  children  at  the  slightest  appearance  of  an- 
ticipated acts  or  dislike  for  him  on  the  part  of  any 
officer.  He  devoted  himself  to  his  company  and 
avoided  all  other  society.  When  his  regiment  reached 
Newbern,  N.  C,  he  was  stationed  for  a  time  at  Fort 
Macon  with  his  company,  and  there  he  buried  himself 
in  the  study  of  law,  except  when  on  duty.  Afterwards 
he  was  placed  in  command  of  a  small  fort,  at  a  place 
called  Newport  Barracks,  in  a  district  commanded  by 
that  noble   soldier,   the   colonel   of  the   9th  Vermont. 


66  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

There  Captain  Conwell  came  near  losing  his  life.  One 
night  when  making  the  "grand  rounds,"  visiting  the 
pickets  on  the  outposts  of  his  district,  he  went  into  the 
forest  several  miles,  to  a  post  called  Canada  Mills. 
He  was .  accompanied  by  his  orderly,  Mr.  Daniel  E. 
Spencer,  now  an  extensive  manufacturer  of  boots  and 
shoes  in  Worcester,  Mass.  The  night  was  very  dark. 
They  had  proceeded  about  two  miles  when  they  heard 
footsteps  on  the  path  before  them.  "Who  comes 
there  ? "  shouted  the  captain.  There  was  no  reply. 
Then  he  directed  Orderly  Spencer  to  stand  quiet,  and 
he  passed  around  through  the  wood  to  reconnoitre. 
Suddenly  he  found  himself  directly  among  a  number 
of  men  creeping  along  the  ground  in  a  stealthy  manner. 
Again  he  called,  "  Who  comes  there  ? "  He  was  an- 
swered by  a  volley  fired  promiscuously  toward  the 
spot.  The  flash  of  the  firearms  revealed  a  company  of 
Confederates,  but  in  the  confusion  neither  could  esti- 
mate the  strength  of  the  other.  Sergeant  Spencer 
leaped  bravely  forward  to  his  captain's  aid.  The 
enemies  scattered  in  a  panic.  It  was  so  dark  that  they 
disappeared  like  flitting  shadows.  Mr.  Conwell  says 
he  owes  his  life  to  Mr.  Spencer's  bravery  that  night. 
On  reaching  the  picket  post  Captain  Conwell  found 
that  shot  had  pierced  his  uniform,  and  one  bullet  had 
struck  his  watch  directly  over  his  heart,  and  shattered 
the  works  and  case.     It  was  a  narrow  escape.     One 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  67 

little  shot  from  a  revolver  or  shotgun  had  entered  his 
right  shoulder,  but  so  slight  appeared  the  wound  that 
he  did  not  at  the  time  believe  any  shot  had  entered  the 
riesh.  But  long  afterward,  when  a  running  sore  and 
blood  spitting  called  attention  to  the  spot,  a  surgeon 
(Dr.  Clarke  of  New  York)  traced  the  little  shot,  and  it 
was  extracted  at  the  Belleview  Hospital  in  time  to  save 
his  life. 

A  short  time  after  that  dangerous  encounter  Captain 
Conwell  became  greatly  disturbed  because  the  pay- 
master had  not  visited  the  post,  and  his  men  were  in 
great  need  of  money.  He  sent  several  communications 
to  the  head-quarters  at  Newbern,  but  no  attention  was 
paid  to  them.  At  last  he  started  off  early  in  the 
morning,  "  without  leave  or  license,"  to  visit  the  pay- 
master in  person.  He  left  his  command  in  charge  of 
an  efficient  officer,  and  there  seemed  no  danger  of  an 
advance  by  the  enemy,  which  the  cavalry  reported  to 
be  picketed  over  twenty  miles  away.  It  was  a  reckless 
undertaking  to  ride  all  the  way  to  army  head-quarters 
through  a  Carolina  forest  accompanied  by  only  one 
man.  But  he  was  determined  to  go  then,  and  get  the 
pay  for  his  men.  That  night  he  ran  into  an  enemy's 
picket,  and  barely  escaped  by  swimming  a  deep,  dark 
creek,  with  shots  spattering  about  him.  On  reaching 
Newbern  he  reported  immediately  to  head-quarters,  and 
received    a   severe  condemnation    for  having  left  his 


6S  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

command  without  written  orders.  General  Palmer,  in 
great  anger,  ordered  him  to  return  without  a  moment's 
delay,  and  said  the  matter  should  be  reported  to  Gen- 
eral B.  F.  Butler,  then  in  command  of  that  army  corps. 
There  was  nothing  for  Captain  Conwell  to  do  but  to 
start  back.  But  his  dismay  and  grief  must  have  been 
great,  on  reaching  the  outposts  of  Newbern,  to  learn 
that  the  telegraph  wires  had  been  cut,  and  that  a  large 
body  of  the  enemy  was  between  him  and  his  post.  He 
endeavored  to  ride  around,  and  also  tried  to  go  by  boat 
down  the  Neuse.  But  the  Confederate  army  had  cap- 
tured the  whole  line  of  posts.  He  soon  learned  by  an 
escaped  soldier  that  his  men  had  been  driven  out  of 
the  works,  many  killed,  and  the  whole  ground  was  held 
by  the  Confederates.  Captain  Conwell  is  said  to  have 
been  so  heart-broken  that  he  fell  into  a  dreadful  brain 
fever,  and  for  many  weeks  lay  hovering  between  life 
and  death  in  wild  delirium. 

But  the  attack  on  the  fort  at  Newport  Barracks,  in 
Captain  Conwell's  absence,  illustrated  well  the  love  and 
confidence  of  his  men.  The  Confederates  approached 
in  an  overwhelming  body  and  charged  without  warning, 
and  the  small- body  of  Union  troops,  though  they  stood 
to  their  cannon  until  pulled  away  by  the  hands  of  scores 
of  enemies  or  shot  dead  at  the  breast-works,  could  hope 
for  nothing  in  a  contest  where  there  were  at  least  fifty 
enemies  to  each  one  of  our  men  in  the  fight.     Those 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  69 

who  could  get  out  of  the  swarm  of  Confederates  re- 
treated across  the  wide  river,  and  set  the  railroad  bridge 
on  fire  behind  them.  At  the  time  of  the  retreat  the  gold- 
sheathed  sword,  which  was  presented  to  Captain  Con- 
well  at  Springfield,  hung  on  the  centre  pole  in  his  tent. 
The  army  regulations  compelled  him  to  wear  a  sword 
of  another  pattern,  so  he  kept  that  in  his  tent.  The 
attack  of  the  enemy  was  so  unexpected  and  sudden 
that  no  one  thought  of  saving  anything  from  the  tents. 
But  a  boy  from  Westfield,  Mass.,  named  John  Ring, 
who  was  Captain  Conwell's  private  assistant,  and  was 
as  devoted  to  him  as  to  his  own  father,  thought  of  the 
sword  after  they  were  all  across  the  river.  He  started 
back  against  many  protestations,  and  rushed  along  the 
blazing  bridge,  into  the  very  thickest  swarm  of  the 
excited  Confederates.  His  bravery  saved  him  then. 
They  did  not  notice  the  unarmed  boy.  He  rushed  into 
the  burning  tent  and  seized  the  sword.  With  it  hugged 
close  to  his  bosom,  he  ran  into  the  conflagration  on  the 
long  bridge.  It  was  a  daring  deed.  Often  Mr.  Con- 
well  speaks  of  it  with  tears.  The  boy  gave  his  life  to 
save  his  loved  captain's  sword.  The  smoke,  the  excite- 
ment and  the  exposure  were  too  great ;  he  succeeded 
in  getting  across  the  bridge  alive  before  it  fell,  but 
after  being  carried  to  Beaufort  on  a  gun  carriage,  he 
died.  His  last  request  of  his  nurse  was,  "  Send  the 
captain  his  extra  sword."     Johnny  Ring  was  a  noble 


7<D  SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 

Christian  boy.  All  who  knew  him  loved  him.  His 
death  was  kept  from  Captain  Conwell  for  some  time. 

On  Captain  ConwelPs  recovery  the  old  feelings 
against  him  as  a  boy  were  aroused  among  his  com- 
petitors, and  he  was  severely  condemned  for  having 
been  "  absent  from  his  post  without  leave."  The 
blame  for  the  defeat  must  fall  somewhere.  General 
Butler  was  informed  that  things  might  have  been 
better  if  all  the  officers  had  been  at  their  posts.  He 
ordered  that  all  such  should  be  brought  before  a  court 
of  Inquiry.  Mr.  Conwell  made  no  effort  to  screen 
himself ;  he  was  but  a  boy  ;  his  soldiers  were  far  away. 
Alone  he  waited,  and  cared  but  little,  apparently,  what 
was  done. 

In  the  meantime  General  Foster  recommended  him 
for  promotion  to  the  command  of  colored  troops.  A 
commission  as  major  in  a  regiment  of  native  North 
Carolina  white  troops  was  offered  him  and  declined. 
At  last,  seeing  that  all  seemed  so  determined  on  his 
destruction,  he,  reckless  as  ever,  left  the  whole  matter 
and  refused  to  appear  but  once  at  the  hearing.  But 
General  Foster  wrote  to  General  McPherson,  then  in 
command  of  the  Seventeenth  Corps,  and  earnestly  in- 
terceded for  an  appointment  for  "  a  boy  who  is  as  brave 
as  an  old  man."  Captain  Conwell  was  directed  to 
report  to  Washington.  But  that  interference  by  others 
prejudiced  the  local  officers  naturally,  and  the  hearing 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  71 

went  against  Captain  Conwell.  But  he  saw  that  an 
influence  like  that  of  General  McPherson's  would  be 
worth  more  than  legal  technicalities,  and  away  he  went 
again  "without  leave  or  license. ,;  General  Butler  con- 
sidered it  discourteous,  as  it  was,  for  generals  in  other 
corps  to  meddle  with  his  men,  and  was  turned  by  that 
against  the  young  boy  captain.  But  afterwards,  when 
the  finding  was  reversed  by  order  of  the  President,,  on 
General  Butler's  own  generous  recommendation,  Gen- 
eral Butler  made  a  chivalrous  expression  of  his  admira- 
tion for  Captain  Conwell  that  gave  us  soldiers  a  thankful 
feeling.  The  State  of  Massachusetts  afterwards  gave 
Captain  Conwell,  a  certificate  for  faithful  and  patriotic 
services  in  that  same  campaign.  Captain  Conwell  went 
to  Washington,  and  the  President  sent  him  to  General 
McPherson.  It  was  a  number  of  weeks  after  he 
reached  Nashville,  Tenn.,  before  he  could  get  up  to  the 
front,  and  he  first  met  General  McPherson,  I  think,  just 
before  the  battle  of  Kennesaw  Mountain.  Anyhow,  at 
Kennesaw  Mountain  he  acted  as  bearer  of  despatches 
over  the  field,  and  received  the  most  terrible  wounds 
of  his  sendee  from  a  bursting  shell.  He  was  left  for 
dead  all  night  on  the  side  of  the  mountain.  Mr.  John 
M.  Crooks,  of  Dubuque,  la.,  lay  near  him  also  wounded, 
and  he  writes  that  he  put  his  head  "  on  Lieutenant  Col. 
ConwelPs  body  in  shifting  his  position,  and  thought 
the  boy  was  dead."    But  when  carried  into  Marietta,  at 


72  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

the  advance  next  day,  the  bones  of  his  arm  and  shoulder 
were  set,  and  he  was  soon  able  to  travel. 

He  was  at  General  McPherson's  head-quarters  when 
the  advance  was  made  on  Atlanta  from  the  Chattahoo- 
chee River,  and  went  back  toward  Nashville  to  recover 
from  his  wrounds.  He  went  back  to  Tennessee  with 
General  Thomas,  and  when  his  commission  was  made 
out  as  lieutenant  colonel,  General  McPherson  was 
dead,  and  he  was  recommended  to  report  to  General 
Logan  at  Washington.  On  the  way  his  weak  system 
broke  down  at  Harper's  Ferry,  and  after  several  days 
of  hesitation,  he  heeded  the  advice  of  his  friends  and 
left  the  service.  A  few  months  later,  and  before  he 
had  recovered,  the  war  was  ended  by  Lee's  surrender. 

For  nearly  ten  years  after,  Col.  Conwell  was  an 
acute  sufferer  in  consequence  of  his  wounds,  but  in 
later  years  appears  to  be  fully  recovered.  How  glad 
all  his  old  comrades  are  to  meet  him  at  the  reunions, 
and  to  see  him  so  well ! 

The  writer  of  this  sketch  has  watched  Col.  Con- 
well's  course  with  affectionate  interest.  I  can  see  that 
others  show  the  same  interest  in  him,  and  are  equally 
glad  that  his  life  is  spared  to  us  and  to  the  Grand 
Army  of  the  Republic  of  which  he  has  been  such  an 
influential  member. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    LAWYER. 

The  boys  "first  case  " — The  best  witness — His  marriage 
—  Life  in  Minnesota  —  Editor  —  Politician  —  Young 
Men's  Christian  Association — Fisits  Europe — Return 
to  practice  in  Mass. — Defending  the  poor — Eree  practice 
— A  deceitful  client — Gen.  N.  P.  Banks — Pension 
cases — Narrow  escape  from  death. 

RUSSELL  was  an  arbitrator  from  childhood.     In 
the  school-children's  quarrels,  and  in  the   dif- 
ferences among  the  young  people  Russell  was 
continually  made  the  referee.     But  he  once  related  at 
a  banquet  in  Boston   of  the   lawyers  of  that  city  this 
incident  which  led  him  into  the  legal  profession. 

In  addition  to  the  farm  and  produce  dealing,  Russell's 
father  kept  a  little  country  store  for  the  sale  of  shot 
and  powder  to  the  hunters,  groceries  to  the  farmers,  and 
nick-nacks  to  the  children.  Of  course  it  was  a  rude 
and  limited  merchantile  venture.  One  day  a  justice  of 
the  peace  from  Northampton  held  a  hearing  in  the 
store.  The  flour  barrel  was  the  judge's  bench,  and  a 
soap  box  and  a  milking  stool  were  the  lawyer's  seats  at 


74  SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 

the  bar.  Russell  sat  on  the  little  counter  and  watched 
the  proceedings.  The  Boston  Post  in  its  report  of  Mr. 
ConwelPs  funny  description  said  : 

"  The  green  country  boy  lay  flat  on  his  breast  on  the 
counter,  with  his  heels  in  the  air  and  his  chin  resting  in 
both  hands.  The  case  was  a  complicated  suit  in  re- 
plevin, and  the  hearing  was  in  the  form  of  interroga- 
tories, and  blanks  for  depositions  to  be  used  in  court 
afterwards. 

Col.  Conwell's  description  kept  the  whole  party  in 
convulsions  of  mirth.  The  Squire's  absurd  decisions 
and  the  country  lawyer's  foolish  technicalities,  and  the 
gaping  gaze  of  the  rustic  denizens  of  those  valleys. 
Mark  Twain's  iron  dog  would  have  giggled." 

The  case  had  not  proceeded  far  when  Russell's  in- 
terest was  awakened  to  a  most  excited  extent.  It 
appeared  that  an  officer  was  sent  after  a  calf  said  to  be 
wrongfully  taken,  and  he  had  been  resisted  by  the 
owner  who  declared  the  calf  they  were  after  had  never 
been  off  his  farm.  It  was  clear  before  the  hearing  had 
gone  far  that  there  was  some  confusion  as  to  the  identity 
of  the  calf  in  question.  The  plaintiff  had  lost  a  calf 
with  a  broken  horn  and  a  white  face.  But  the  defend- 
ant declared  that  he  had  never  seen  that  heifer  at  all, 
and  the  one  with  a  broken  horn  and  white  face  which 
was  seen  in  his  barn  was  one  he  had  raised  from  birth. 
But  the  defendant  was  getting  the  worst  of  it  for  the 
descriptions  tallied  so  exact.     And  he  "  was  also  seen 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  75 

driving  a  white  faced  calf  up  the  mountain  one  night 
just  after  the  calf  had  been  missed  from  the  pasture." 
The  defendant  swore  to  his  deposition,  and  swore  at  the 
attorney,  and  finally  cursed  the  judge.  The  case  was 
certainly  lost,  and  the  defendant  was  a  thief  and  a  liar, 
to  all  appearances.  Just  then  Russell  scrambled  off  the 
counter,  regardless  of  the  disturbance  in  Court,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  appeared  at  the  door  with  a  white  faced 
calf  with  a  broken  horn,  and  in  great  haste  he  pushed 
the  dumb  witness  squarely  into  the  middle  of  the  Court. 
It  was  the  lost  heifer.  Russell  had  found  it  with  his 
father's  cows,  and  had  driven  it  to  the  barn  and  kept  it 
for  three  weeks,  unable  until  that  moment  to  find  an 
owner.  The  owner  recognized  it  at  once,  and  gave  up 
the  suit  and  paid  the  costs.  The  calf  itself  was  a  con- 
vincing witness  that  the  other  calf  was  not  stolen  or 
taken  by  mistake. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  fun  and  talk  over  the  mat- 
ter, and  in  the  little  knot  of  villagers,  Russell  was  quite 
a  hero.  Every  old  lady  said  the  boy  would  be  a  lawyer. 
It  aroused  his  pride  and  ambition.  From  that  time  the 
boy  was  ever  swinging  back  and  forth  in  his  purposes 
between  the  ministry  and  the  law.  So  he  read  about 
both,  and  studied  the  books  of  both. 

In  1865,  after  he  had  received  his  diploma  from  the 
Albany  University,  Col.  Conwell  was  married,  at 
Chicopee    Falls,    Mass.,    to    Miss   Jennie  P.  Hayden, 


76  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

daughter  of  Elizur  B.  Hayden.  Miss  Hayden  had  been 
one  of  his  scholars  in  a  district  school  in  West  Gran- 
ville, Mass.,  and  afterwards  one  of  his  most  proficient 
students  of  music.  Her  brothers,  Sydney  and  William, 
were  in  Col.  ConwelPs  command,  and  were  brave 
soldiers,  and  his  true  friends.  Her  youngest  brother,  J. 
Orlin  Hayden,  now  proprietor  of  the  SomerviWe  Journal, 
and  county  treasurer  at  Cambridge,  Mass.,  was,  after 
his  father's  death,  employed  by  Col.  Conwell  in  his 
publishing  and  legal  business  in  Minnesota. 

Immediately  after  his  marriage  Col.  Conwell  went 
to  St.  Paul,  Minn.,  and  after  a  few  months  stay,  made  his 
permanent  residence  in  Minneapolis.  He  opened  a 
law  office  in  a  two  story  stone  building  on  Bridge  Square, 
over  a  drug  store.  Being  poor,  he  could  not  wait  long 
for  clients  without  getting  deeply  in  debt,  so  with  his 
usual  felicity,  he  turned  his  hand  to  any  honest  work 
which  would  give  him  and  his  young  wife  a  living.  He 
acted  as  agent  for  his  intimate  friends,  the  Thompson 
Brothers  of  St.  Paul,  in  the  sale  of  land  warrants.  He 
also  began  to  negotiate  for  the  sale  of  town  lots,  and 
acted  as  local  correspondent  for  the  St.  Paul  Press.  He 
was  soon  in  local  politics,  and  canvassed  the  settlements 
and  towns  for  the  Republican  and  Temperance  tickets. 
He  was  associated  in  the  work  with  many  of  the  best 
known  statesmen  of  Minnesota.  The  friendship  of 
many  of  the  Congressmen  and  Senators  was  of  great 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  77 

use  to  him  in  after  years.  He  was  an  earnest  advocate 
of  the  public  schools,  and  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the 
city  and  district  schools.  He  was  hopeful,  active  and 
beaming  with  fun. 

His  first  law  case  was  as  Attorney  for  himself,  and 
the  Justice  said,  "  the  young  fellow  had  no  fool  for  a 
client "  even  if  he  did  plead  his  own  case.  One  of  his 
neighbors  who  furnished  me  with  the  facts,  says  that 
Col.  Conwell  was  the  popular  president  of  a  skating 
park  organization,  which  kept  a  large  spot  on  the 
Mississippi  River  clear  of  snow  for  skating  above  St. 
Anthony's  Falls,  and  around  Henepin  Island.  A  con- 
tract was  made  with  a  rollicking  Irishman  to  scrape  the 
ice  when  necessary,  but  the  fellow  got  drunk,  and  a 
carnival  had  to  be  postponed.  Col.  Conwell  refused 
to  sign  an  order  to  pay  the  delinquent,  and  the  whole 
company,  including  a  hundred  young  men,  were  sued  at 
law  by  the  Irishman.  They  all  marched  up  to  court, 
and  the  scene  was  the  town  talk  for  fun  for  a  long  time. 
After  the  Irishman  had  testified  amid  shouts  of  laughter 
in  the  unruly  court  room,  Col.  Conwell  raised  the  point 
that  there  were  another  hundred  citizens  who  were  not 
joined  as  defendants  who  belonged  to  the  company. 
Then  the  amused  old  Justice  dismissed  the  case. 

Col.  Conwell  and  his  wife  had  but  one  room  for  a 
home,  and  that  was  back  of  his  office  on  the  same  floor. 
There  they  cooked,  ate  and  slept.     In  his  law  office  at 


78  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

that  time  was  begun  the  business  men's  daily  noon 
prayer  meetings,  which  resulted  in  a  permanent  organ- 
ization, and  which  grew  into  the  Minneapolis  Young 
Men's  Christian  Association. 

I  have  not  been  able  to  get  much  data  concerning 
his  law  practice  in  Minneapolis,  but  I  have  the  belief 
that  it  was  not  very  extensive.  He  was  a  perfect 
genius  for  continuous  hard  work,  but  how  he  could 
have  done  all  the  different  things  they  say  he  was 
engaged  in  will  always  be  a  wonder.  He  soon  made 
money  enough  to  purchase  a  home,  and  a  large  law 
library,  both  of  which  were  destroyed  by  fire. 

When  Col.  Conwell  was  attacked  by  a  hemorrhage  of 
the  lungs  on  account  of  his  wounds  breaking  out  afresh, 
he  was  the  owner  of  many  corner  lots,  the  proprietor 
of  a  daily  and  weekly  paper  called  "  Conwell's  Star  of 
the  North,"  and  conducted  a  job  printing  office,  besides 
his  law  business.  But  he  was  compelled  to  drop  all 
business  instantly  and  go  away.  Governor  Marshall,  one 
of  his  political  friends,  sent  him  as  Emigration  Agent 
to  Europe,  but  he  was  too  ill  to  do  much,  and  after 
reaching  Leipsic  resigned,  and  occupied  his  mind  taking 
lectures  several  months  at  that  German  University.  All 
his  business  was  sold  out  in  Minneapolis  at  an  awful 
loss,  and  before  he  was  able  to  earn  his  living  again  he 
had  spent  all,  and  was  sadly  in  debt.  He  did  not  re- 
turn   to  Minneapolis  except  to  settle  some   business 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 


79 


affairs,  and  attend  the  state  encampment  of  the  G.  A.  R. 
of  which  he  had  been  Inspector  General.  When  his 
years  of  pilgrimage  over  the  world  as  a  traveling  cor- 
respondent had  restored  his  health  entirely. 

Col.  Conwell  began  the  practice  of  law  again  in 
Somerville,  Mass.,  near  Boston.  There  too  he  began 
to  purchase  and  sell  real  estate.  But  he  was  very  poor 
when  he  began,  and  lived  in  the  cheapest  manner  in  a 
tenement.  When  his  first  child  (a  daughter)  was  born 
they  were  actually  too  poor  to  own  the  furniture  of  one 
room.  But  his  work  as  a  correspondent  and  editor 
enabled  him  to  furnish  a  home  soon  after  he  moved  to 
Somerville.  But  his  law  practice  prospered  there.  He 
was  so  well  known  as  a  public  speaker  that  clients 
filled  his  office  at  once.  In  a  few  weeks  he  was  crowded 
with  cases.  His  ill  fortune  turned  to  good  fortune,  and 
he  was  for  a  time  on  the  road  to  wealth  again.  If 
he  had  given  his  chief  attention  to  making  money  he 
must  have  been  very  rich.  But  his  experience  and 
taste  of  the  bitterness  of  poverty  aroused  in  him  a  burn- 
ing sympathy  with  the  poor.  He  was  often  led  into 
large  real  estate  speculations,  and  one  of  his  clerks 
told  me  that  he  lost  fifty-one  thousand  dollars  in  one 
venture  during  the  financial  panic  of  1874.  That  dis- 
gusted him  with  real  estate  speculations.  He  often 
endorsed  for  friends,  and  one  of  them  failed  owing 
him  nearly  ten  thousand    dollars.      He    could   make 


80  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

money,  but  his  unfortunate  friends  would  usually  spend 
it  for  him.  Then,  as  I  have  said,  he  was  a  friend  to  the 
poor.  Hundreds  of  cases  he  managed  in  the  lower 
courts,  and  refused  the  fees,  and  sometimes  paid  the 
expenses  himself. 

For  some  years  he  kept  his  law  office  in  Boston 
open  every  evening  and  gave  counsel  and  legal  work 
free  to  any  poor  person  who  came.  It  was  a  noble 
charity.  Many  a  poor  widow  secured  her  dower,  and 
many  a  poor  orphan  obtained  their  inheritance  who 
had  no  money  or  friends  otherwise  to  secure  their 
rights. 

It  was  considered  by  many  what  the  lawyers  call 
"  unprofessional  "  for  him  to  give  his  advice  free,  and 
many  jealous  ones  accused  him  of  selfish  motives ;  but 
the  students  in  his  law  office  uniformly  say  that  he 
never  took  a  case  afterwards  into  court  for  pay  which 
came  to  him  from  the  evening  charity  work.  Some 
evenings  he  had  more  than  fifty  applicants  who  wished 
redress  for  wrongs,  or  information  how  to  protect  them- 
selves from  wrong  doers.  His  advertisement  in  the 
Boston  daily  papers  after  his  office  was  removed  to  that 
city  I  have  kept.     It  is  as  follows : 

"  Legal  Advice  for  the  Poor. 

Any  deserving  poor  person  wishing  legal  advice  or 
assistance  will  be  given  the  same  free  of  any  charge, 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  8l 

any  evening  except  Sunday,  at  No.  12  Rialto  Building, 
Devonshire  St.  None  of  those  cases  will  be  taken  into 
court  for  pay." 

Another  remarkable  thing  about  his  practice  was  that 
neither  he  nor  his  law  partners  would  ever  take  a  case 
into  court  if  their  client  was  in  the  wrong,  nor  into  the 
criminal  trials  if  the  defendant  was  guilty.  No  offers  of 
money  could  bribe  him  to  do  it.  It  is  an  honor  to  our 
old  Commonwealth  that  such  lawyers  can  still  be  found 
practicing  at  the  bar.  But  the  fact  that  it  was  known 
that  he  would  not  take  a  case  he  knew  was  wrong, 
made  villains  the  more  anxious  to  secure  him.  I  do 
not  suppose  he  escaped  deceit  always. 

One  case  which  leaked  out,  and  was  published  at  the 
time  in  the  Boston  Sunday  Times,  made  much  fun  for  Col. 
Conwell's  colleagues.  A  young  fellow  who  appeared 
like  a  saint,  convinced  lawyer  Conwell  that  he  was  not  a 
pickpocket  as  charged.  Col.  Conwell  was  certain  of 
the  young  man's  perfect  innocence,  and  went  to  the 
District  Attorney  to  urge  that  the  innocent  man  should 
not  have  his  name  in  the  papers.  When  the  case  came 
up  for  trial,  Col.  Conwell  and  his  client  sat  close 
together.  After  he  had  addressed  the  court,  it  was  at 
once  agreed  that  the  case  should  be  dismissed,  by  the 
district  attorneys  consent.  So  lawyer  and  client  walked 
out  of  court  triumphantly.  When  they  reached  Col. 
Conwell's  office,   the  defendant  paid   the  fee  out  of  his 


82  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

lawyer's  own  pocket-book  which  he  had  stolen  while 
Col.  Conwell  was  stoutly  asserting  his  innocence  to 
the  court.  The  reckless  thief  told  of  it,  and  returned 
the  pocket-book  afterwards. 

During  those  years  of  most  arduous  toil,  he  started 
from  his  home  in  Newton  Centre  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning  regularly,  and  by  the  time  his  clerks  and 
students  came  to  his  office,  he  had  the  day's  work  of 
each  carefully  laid  out.  It  was  a  life  of  work,  work, 
work.  No  rest.  Yet  his  income  from  his  law  practice 
was  very  small.  It  was  also  at  times  very  perplexing. 
Other  attorneys  thought  he  was  getting  rich.  The 
poor  who  paid  him  nothing  insisted  on  believing  that 
he  was  paid  by  some  rich  charitable  institution.  Often 
the  ungrateful  clients  would  abuse  him  for  his  ridged 
adherence  to  the  right. 

One  man  with  whom  he  sat  up  whole  nights  to  save 
him  from  the  delirium  tremens,  and  whose  fine  in  the 
court  Col.  Conwell  paid,  was  a  common  example.  He 
wanted  to  borrow  money.  Col.  Conwell  would  not  lend 
it.  The  drunkard  became  angry,  and  attempted  to 
stab  Col.  Conwell  to  the  heart.  The  colonel  knocked 
the  assassin  down  with  a  heavy  notarial  seal,  and  then 
carried  the  bleeding  villain  tenderly  to  the  hospital. 
and  oared  for  him  there. 

In  the  personal  work  of  temperance  reform  he 
was   always    active.      He    never   drank    intoxicating 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  8$ 

liquors  of  any  kind  himself,  but  he  had  a  sympathy 
with  those  who  did.  He  often  took  drunkards  to  his 
own  beautiful  home  in  Somerville  and  in  Boston,  and 
dosed  them  all  night.  He  never  passed  a  reeling  man 
on  the  street  without  speaking  kindly  to  him.  He  was 
on  friendly  terms  with  the  bar-keepers  also ;  although 
he  told  them  in  plain  terms  his  estimate  of  their  trade. 
So,  many  of  his  law  cases  were  in  defence  of  the  poor 
inebriates,  or  for  their  widows,  orphans,  or  deserted 
families  of  drunkards.  At  one  time  he  was  the  guar- 
dian over  sixty  orphan  children.  In  one  case,  I  am 
told  by  a  neighbor,  he  assumed  the  guardianship  of 
three  boys  who  were  destitute  ;  and  through  Col.  Con- 
well's  intercession  with  a  distant  relative,  the  boys 
were  remembered  in  a  will  which  gave  them  fifty 
thousand  dollars  in  stock  in  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio 
Railroad. 

During  those  years  in  Boston,  he  often  made  politi- 
cal speeches,  and  was  the  especial  favorite  of  the 
workingmen.  At  one  time  he  was  nominated  by  the 
Republican  party  for  the  State  Legislature,  but  was  de- 
feated on  the  temperance  issue.  At  another  time  he 
was  persistently  urged  by  the  Republican  and  Working- 
men's  party,  in  the  Fifth  Massachusetts  congressional 
district  to  accept  a  nomination  for  congress,  but  he  re- 
fused. General  Nathaniel  P.  Banks  was  a  favorite 
political   friend    of    Col.     Conwell,    and    in    one   elec- 


84  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

tion  Col.  Conwell  was  the  manager  of  the  entire 
campaign,  and  General  Banks,  running  on  an  inde- 
pendent ticket,  was  elected  by  a  most  astonishing 
majority. 

Senator  Charles  Sumner  and  Senator  Henry  Wilson 
both  urged  his  name,  without  his  knowledge,  for  the 
Consulship  at  Naples,  Italy,  having  heard  his  lectures 
on  Italian  history  at  Cambridge.  In  matters  to  be 
heard  by  the  Legislature,  he  was  often  the  advocate  of 
cities  and  towns,  and  was  counted  an  expert  in  con- 
tested election  cases.  Yet  in  the  midst  of  all  these 
cares,  he  found  minutes  on  the  cars,  or  while  waiting 
for  trains  to  study  the  languages  and  the  latest  works 
of  science.  Not  a  minute  lost ;  not  a  wasted  hour.  No 
one  seemed  to  consider  him  a  great  genius,  and  none 
of  his  friends  regarded  his  unostentatious  life  as  any- 
thing remarkable.  He  himself  was  the  last  person 
who  would  have  thought  he  had  any  unusual  gift. 
He  shunned  public  praise.  He  hated  flattery,  and 
always  avoided  those  persons  who  pestered  him  with 
compliments  after  any  success. 

Catholics,  Jewish,  Protestant  and  non-sectarian  chari- 
ties sought  his  aid  in  legal  matters,  and  found  a  ready 
helper.  But  in  none  of  them  would  he  ever  take  an 
office.  In  such  legal  work  he  was  often  assisted  by 
General  B.  F.  Butler,  for  whom  he  always  felt  an 
earnest  friendship,  because    the   General  was  a  vigor- 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  85 

ous,  though  not  always  a  consistent  friend  of  the  labor- 
ing classes.  Dr.  George  B.  Loring,  recently  United 
States  Commissioner  of  Agriculture,  was  also  his 
friend  and  pressed  him  forward  in  his  lectures  and 
practice. 

I  have  written  to  Mr.  Conwell  to  ask  him  more  of 
the  details  of  this  time  in  the  history  of  his  life,  and 
all  the  satisfaction  I  received  was  a  friendly  letter  in 
which  he  says  he  has  forgotten  all  about  it,  and  "  no 
one  cares  anything  about  it  anyhow."  But  it  seems 
to  me  that  this  is  important.  If  a  person  becomes 
successful  in  this  world,  it  is  helpful  to  beginners 
to.  know  how  it  is  done.  The  children  of  our  com- 
rades will  read  this  history  when  we  are  gone,  it 
may  be. 

Much  of  his  attention  was  taken  up  by  applicants 
for  pensions,  and  his  political  influence  added  much 
to  his  prestige.  Soldiers,  orphans,  widows  and  parents 
applied  to  him,  and  his  sister  says  that  he  could 
not  travel  on  the  cars,  or  visit  his  old  home  with- 
out being  beset  with  applicants  for  a  pension.  He 
never  charged  a  soldier,  or  a  soldier's  widow  a  cent  for 
all  his  work.  Sometimes  he  went  to  Washington  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  securing  for  some  sick  comrade  the 
Government's  aid.  His  acquaintance  with  the  Presi- 
dents whose  biography  he  had  written,  and  his  friend- 
ships among  the  members  of  congress,  made  him  ever  a 


86  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

successful  advocate.  His  partners  say  he  never  lost 
a  pension  case,  nor  ever  made  a  cent  by  it. 

He  prepared  and  presented  many  bills  to  Congres- 
sional Committees  at  Washington,  and  appeared  as 
counsel  in  several  Louisiana  and  Florida  election  cases. 
His  arguments  before  the  Supreme  Courts  in  several 
important  patent  cases  were  reported  to  the  country  by 
the  Associated  Press.  He  had  at  one  time  considerable 
influence  with  the  President  and  Senators  in  political 
appointments,  and  some  of  the  best  men  still  in  govern- 
ment office  in  this  state  (Massachusetts)  and  in  other 
New  England  States,  say  they  owe  their  appointment  to 
his  active  friendship  in  visiting  Washington  in  their  be- 
half. But  it  does  not  appear  that  through  all  these 
years  of  work  and  political  influence  that  he  ever 
asked  for  an  appointment  for  himself.  I  do  not  think 
he  ever  did. 

At  one  of  the  dinners  in  1878,  which  was  attended  by 
some  of  the  Alumni  of  Albany  University,  Mr.  J.  B. 
Lougee  of  Syracuse,  referred  in  flattering  terms  to 
Mr.  ConwelPs  success,  and  said  that  "  the  Col.  showed 
in  his  legal  practice  that  same  forgetfulness  of  self 
which  he  exhibited  in  a  scene  in  Connecticut  in  1872,'" 
which  the  speaker  witnessed.  I  have  tried  to  get  the 
full  account  of  it  from  Mr.  Conwell,  but  he  declined 
to  furnish  it.  I  have  found  in  the  Hartford  CouranL. 
October  25,  1872,  the  following: 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  87 

"RUNAWAY    IN    PLAINVILLE — GALLANT  CONDUCT    OF 
COLONEL  CONWELL. 

While  two  young  ladies  by  the  name  of  Cullows  were 
driven  out  by  a  coachman,  Wednesday  morning,  the 
horses  took  fright  at  an  approaching  train,  and,  dashing 
through  the  fence,  started  at  a  furious  speed  across  a 
rocky  field.  The  cowardly  coachman  leaped  from  the 
front  seat  and  let  go  the  reins,  leaving  the  ladies  to 
their  fate.  Colonel  R.  H.  Con  well,  the  orator  and 
writer  of  Boston,  saw  the  condition  of  affairs  and  bravely 
rushed  to  the  rescue.  He  overtook  the  team,  after  they 
had  broken  the  shaft  and  just  as  they  were  making  a 
short  turn,  which  must  have  crushed  the  ladies  with  the 
carriage,  had  he  not  seized  the  horses  by  the  bridles. 
He  is  a  powerful  man,  but  so  great  was  their  headway 
that  he  was  carried  over  rocks  and  ditches,  a  distance 
of  more  than  a  hundred  yards,  and  when  the  exhausted 
horses  were  finally  stopped,  their  heads  bled  profusely 
where  the  harness  straps  cut  in,  and  the  Colonel  was 
bruised  and  his  clothing  torn,  and  injured  internally  so 
severely  that  a  physician  was  called,  who  for  a  while 
feared  a  fatal  result.  The  ladies  escaped  without  a 
scratch,  but  the  carriage  was  almost  a  total  wreck.  The 
Colonel  is  doing  well  at  this  writing,  but  could  not 
fill  a  lecture  engagement  which  he  had  at  Plainville, 
Wednesday  night,  as  the  physician  would  not  let  him 
be  removed." 


88  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

Not  one  of  our  comrades  will  be  surprised  at  Col. 
Conwell's  action  in  the  above  case.  Lawyer  Lougee's 
use  of  the  incident  as  an  illustration  of  his  whole  life 
was  true  to  his  nature.  Such  a  disposition  was  clearly 
apparent  in  the  whole  course  of  his  legal  business  life. 

[Note. — The  following  chapters  are  added  entire  to 
the  foregoing  account. — Ed. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    TRAVELER. 

India  —  Companions  —  Feeling  at  home — Descriptions — 
Babylon— Gethsemane — Pictures  of  history — Habits 
of  travel — Testimony  of  friends — The  English  press — 
His  different  journeys — Narrow  escapes — Letter  from 
the  battle  fields — Lookout  mountain. 

MR.  LEMUEL  T.  HARRIS  of  New  York  who  is 
mentioned  in  Mr.  Conwell's  book  on  the 
Chinese,  as  a  traveling  companion  in  an  ex- 
pedition to  the  Tomb  of  Confucius,  was  Mr.  Conwell's 
companion  for  a  long  time  in  other  Eastern  countries 
beside  China.  Mr.  Harris  died  in  1880,  but  his  daugh- 
ter kindly  furnishes  the  following  letter  preserved  from 
her  father's  spicy,  private  correspondence  : 

Conwell  and  I  reached  Delhi  this  morning,  and  have 
spent  the  day  calling  on  the  "Great  Moguls."  The 
remnants  and  odds  and  ends  of  the  old  Indian  royalty. 
Queer  lot.  I've  had  no  end  of  fun.  Conwell  is  the 
funniest  chap  I  ever  fell  in  with.  He  sees  a  thousand 
things  I  never  think  of  looking  after.  When  his 
letters  come  back  in  print  I  find  lots  in  them  that 
seems  new  to  me,   although  I  saw  it  all  the  time.     But 


90  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

you  don't  see  the  fun  in  his  letters  to  the  papers.  The 
way  he  adapts  himself  to  all  circumstances  comes  from 
long  travel.  But  it  is  droll.  He  makes  a  salaam  to  the 
defunct  kings,  a  neat  bow  to  the  Sudras  and  a  friendly 
wink  to  the  Howadji  in  a  way  that  puts  him  cheek-by- 
jowl  with  them  in  a  jiff.  He  beats  me  all  out  in  his 
positive  sympathy  with  these  miserable  heathen.  He 
don't  seem  to  act  ever  for  fun.  But  it  makes  much  for 
me.  I  tell  you — if  I  had  the  money  I  would  stick  to 
Conwell  for  five  years.  He  has  read  so  much  that  he 
knows  about  everything.  The  way  the  officials,  Eng- 
lish too,  treat  him,  would  make  you  think  he  was  the 
son  of  some  lord.  He  has  a  dignified  condescension 
in  his  manner  that  I  can't  imitate.  But  he  is  a  good 
fellow,  and  I  am  glad  I  met  him  at  Omaha,  as  I  did.  I 
have  laughed  more  at  his  jokes  and  stories  this  past 
week  in  the  Himalayas  than  I  have  laughed  before  for 
five  years.  Even  the  Parsees  treated  us  as  old  friends. 
The  contemptible  chairman  and  wild  bushman  or 
woodsman,  open  their  dirty  huts  to  him  and  shut  me 
out.  But  I  don't  care  to  go  into  many  of  them.  Dirty 
lot.  But  he  sees  and  learns  all,  and  all  the  little  naked 
ninnies  cry  after  him.  What  comic  things  he  makes 
them  do.  He  really  does  like  them.  They  are  all  jolly 
with  him.  I  don't  think  his  letters  do  him  justice.  I 
see  by  the  last  copy  of  the  Traveller  that  he  accuses  me 
of  all  the  funny  things.  But  you  can  see  Conwell  more 
than  me.  We  are  going  down  to  Agra,  and  across  to 
Bombay.  I  think  Conwell  will  let  me  go  up  to  Bagdad 
with  him  if  the  Tribune  writes  to  him  to  go.  I  shall 
stick  to  him  as  long  as  I  can.  I  had  a  chill  again  at 
Calcutta.     But  Conwell  is  a  splendid  nurse.     . 


SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST.  9 1 

We  have  concluded  to  go  up  the  Ganges  to  the 
11  Missionaries  Retreat "  where  George  H.  Stewart  of 
Philadelphia  has  been  building  a  hospital,  I  think. 
Conwell  wishes  to  write  about  that,  and  see  the 
Hurdwar  falls.     I  may  not  write  again  for  two  weeks. 

The  above  letter  gives  some  idea  of  Mr.  Conwell  as 
a  traveler,  and  shows  something  of  his  power  to  win  his 
way  among  savage  people.  But  his  traveling  began 
with  a  European  trip  when  he  was  residing  in  Minne- 
sota, and  an  extended  tour  to  Palestine,  Egypt  and  the 
Euphrates  when  his  health  failed  the  following  year.  It 
must  have  been  a  delightful  thing  to  him  to  travel.  His 
imaginative  powers  are  brilliant  and  clear.  He  seems 
actually  to  live,  for  the  time  in  the  scenes  of  the  past. 
Thousands  of  listeners  will  recall  the  vivid  description 
of  the  fall  of  Babylon  in  his  lecture  on  "  Lessons  of 
Travel."  The  President  of  Harvard  College  wrote  of 
it  "  It  is  impossible  to  forget  such  gorgeous  descrip- 
tions. The  speaker  must  revel  in  a  series  of  grand 
visions.5'  That  was  a  gift  which  must  have  been  a 
continual  feast  to  him.  He  seemed  to  witness  the 
events  of  ages  gone,  as  actually  moving  about  him  in 
panoramic  view.  Mr.  Household  of  Greensburg,  Pa. 
who  visited  the  Paris  Exposition  of  1868  with  Mr.  Con- 
well, says,  "  Mr.  Conwell  was  a  most  fascinating  travel- 
ing companion.  He  saw  beauty  and  interest  in  every- 
thing." 


92 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 


Mr.  Conwell  has  kindly  offered  to  place  at  our  dis- 
posal, any  of  his  correspondence  during  his  journeys, 
but  he  seems  to  have  taken  no  pains  to  preserve  his 
writings,  and  we  have  to  go  to  other  sources,  in  the 
main,  for  information.  His  lecture  on  "Lessons  of 
Travel  "  has  given  us  many  hints  which  we  have  tried 
to  follow  up,  and  in  it  he  says,  "  The  ability  to  make  the 
present  transparent,  so  as  to  see  through  it,  into  the 
events  of  the  past  seems  to  be  a  necessary  gift  in 
travel." 

Mr.  Conwell  possessed  it  in  an  unusual  degree.  He 
visited  the  ruins  of  Kenilworth  Castle  in  England,  and 
his  excited  description  of  the  scenes  of  poor  Amy 
Robsart's  love  and  death,  made  the  vision  clearer  to 
the  American  traveler  than  did  Walter  Scott  himself. 
Every  tower  stood  again  complete.  The  banquet  hall 
was  furnished.— The  guests  were  there.— It  is  night— 
Leicester  whistles. — Amy  starts. — The  trap  door  clicks. 

Death !    All  seemed  to  be  seen  by  him.     How  much 

such  scenic  power  must  add  to  travel.  He  has  often 
described  the  battlefield  of  Waterloo  with  a  detail  and 
graphic  power  that  was  far  finer  and  more  real  to  his 
auditors  than  a  great  painting. 

"The  Picturesque  Orator,"  as  he  has  come  to  be 
called,  originated  in  this  marvelous  gift.  He  could  see 
the  battle  :  and  it  must  have  been  real  to  him.  Any 
listener  to  his  portrayal  of  the  old  guard's  last  charge 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  93 

which  sometimes  is  given  in  his  lecture  on  "  Acres  of 
Diamonds  "  must  be  able  to  see  it  all  as  vividly  as  the 
real  scene  could  be.  Wherever  he  went  it  was  so. 
Egyptian  tombs  gave  up  their  dead,  and  the  catacombs 
sent  out  their  inmates  to  live  and  act  their  ancient 
deeds  before  him.  Every  battle  was  fought  over,  and 
every  forum  awoke  again  with  the  voices  of  ancient 
orators.  Each  palace  hall  was  peopled  again  with 
beauty  and  chivalry.  He  could  see  them,  hear  them, 
love  and  hate  them.  The  present  was  the  far  off,  and 
the  ancient  was  the  nearest  to  view.  In  his  letter  to  the 
Boston  Times  on  his  visit  1o  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane, 
near  Jerusalem,  he  shows  what  travel  was  to  him. 

"  Last  night  we  sat  in  the  moonlight,  under  the  old 
Olives  in  Gethsemane.  The  old  monk  was  very  kind, 
and  could  speak  German  readily.  He  was  full  of 
traditions  and  speculations  ;  but  when  the  shadows  of 
the  walls  began  to  creep  up  the  side  of  Olivet,  I  lost 
myself  in  delicious  reveries.  The  monk  talked  on,  the 
olive  trees  shook  in  the  breeze,  and  the  cry  of  some 
sentry  or  shepherd  often  echoed  around  the  walls. 

"But  all  grew  indistinct  and  unreal.  All  changed 
about  me  with  transformations  like  a  clear  dream.  I 
stood  alone  in  old  Gethsemane.  No  wall  of  masonry 
about  it,  no  picket  enclosures  within.  The  olives  were 
larger,  the  hedge  deeper,  and  the  Keedron  rippled  by. 
Palestine  had  been  hot  and  disagreeable,  but  the  beds 


94  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

of  earth  and  stone,  the  poor  food,  the  beggars,  the 
lepers,  the  guides,  the  quarreling  Arabs,  the  weeping 
Jews  of  the  present,  with  all  their  disagreeable  asso- 
ciations of  the  present,  were  gone.  I  stepped  back 
eighteen  hundred  years  and 'more.  It  was  dark.  Lights 
flashed  from  the  dark  outline  of  the  walls.  Suddenly 
the  moon  looked  down  through  a  rift  of  deep  clouds. 

"Then  it  was  dark  again.  The  distant  mountains 
beyond  the  city,  and  Olivet  behind  me  were  strangely 
outlined  against  the  murky  sky.  I  could  hear  the 
voices  of  pilgrim  parties  murmuring  in  their  little 
camps,  and  the  distant  chatter  of  passing  travelers 
going  up  the  steep  ascent  to  the  city.     .     .     . 

"  I  saw  the  shadowy  forms  of  men  crossing  the  little 
bridge,  and  saw  them  indistinctly  as  they  paused  at 
the  gateway  of  the  garden.  I  saw  the  four  come  into 
the  garden,  and  heard  their  voices.  Distinctly  one 
said,  as  he  left  the  others,  under  the  largest  Olive 
'Tarry  thou  here,  while  I  go  yonder  to  pray.'  He 
paused  near  me.  His  white  robe  brushed  the  vines 
along  the  path.  Under  the  next  olive  he  knelt  down. 
The  moon  came  out  again  and  sprinkled  his  robe  with 
light  through  the  leaves.  His  head  was  uncovered. 
His  hands  were  stretched  upward.  How  pleading  his 
tones  in,  '  Let  this  cup  pass  from  me.'  What  a  view 
of  him  I  had.  I  cried.  Tears  came  down.  I  held  my 
breath  as  the  noble  man  walked  back,   and  woke  the 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  95 

sleepers.  Then  again  he  glided  by.  Again  he  prayed. 
Once  more  the  moon  showed  him  clearly  kneeling 
there.  Oh,  what  a  sight !  He  was  moaning,  and  had 
fallen  prostrate  on  the  ground.  Suddenly  a  soft  glow, 
as  of  a  crimson  dawn,  grew  brighter  about  the  place. 
It  grew  speedily  into  light  which  encircled  the  praying 
one.  Then  softly  outlined  at  first,  but  quickly  defined, 
a  bright  form  appeared  bending  over  the  weeping 
worshiper.  An  angel !  Oh,  such  divinity  of  beauty. 
Such  delicacy  of  manner.  Such  grace  of  motion.  Such 
compassionate  love.  I  knelt  before  the  vision.  I  put 
my  head  to  the  ground.  My  soul  was  filled  with  an 
ineffable  thrill  of  heavenly  joy.  That  was  worship 
indeed.  .  .  .  *  Kommen  sie  mit  mir,  Mein  Herr  ? ' 
'  You  must  be  dreaming,  and  very  tired,'  kindly 
commanded  the  Monk,  and  the  delicious  vision  was 
dissipated.  Such  scenes  long  gone,  and  not  the 
present  landscapes,  make  the  chief  joy  and  profit  of 
travel." 

With  such  a  mind,  filled  with  the  accumulated  infor- 
mation of  incessant  study,  and  with  such  an  imagination, 
his  experience  as  a  traveler  must  have  been  thrilling. 

From  the  Dead  sea  to  the  sea  of  Gallilee,  and  up  the 
Jordan's  cliffs,  he  must  have  found  a  continual  feast. 
From  Capernaum  to  Nazareth  and  to  Damascus,  the 
old  associations  must  have  enriched  him.  Even  the 
desert  route  to  Palmyra,  and  the  other  trip  to  Sinai  and 


96  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

Mecca  had  a  fascination  to  him  which  a  different  dis- 
position could  never  feel. 

On  the  upper  Nile,  on  the  Yangtse  in  China,  he  was 
ever  in  close  communication  with  the  characters  of  the 
past.  In  Sweden  and  Russia,  as  in  Greece  and  Italy 
there  were  scenes  as  Bayard  Taylor  said  of  him. 
"  Which  he  understood  where  the  unread  pilgrim  saw 
nothing  but  dust."  The  Turk  and  Austrian,  the  Bul- 
garian and  Caucassian  were  human  friends  to  him. 
Their  Mythology  and  history  he  seemed  to  know  by 
instinct.  Henry  M.  Stanley  of  the  New  York  Herald, 
and  Edward  King  of  the  Boston  Journ al  used  an  almost 
identical  expression  in  writing  of  him  from  Paris  in 
187 1.  "  Send  that  double-sighted  yankee,  and  he  will 
see  at  a  glance  all  there  is  and  all  there  ever  was." 

At  a  grand  banquet  given  to  the  Western  Editors  in 
New  Orleans,  at  which  Mr.  Conwell  was  a  specially 
invited  guest,  the  editor  of  the  Mattoon  [III]  Journal 
said,  "  That  man  finds  more  of  real  romance  in  our 
matter-of-fact  world  than  any  poet  in  the  world." 

But  his  descriptions  did  him  injustice,  often.  He 
wrote  his  letters  on  carts  joggling  over  rough  roads,  or 
in  some  rude  cabin.  A  hut  or  a  palace  was  all  the 
same  to  him.  He  wrote  hastily  and  rudely  often. 
Sometimes  he  was  so  independent  as  to  be  offensive, 
and  was  often  too  well  acquainted  with  men's  ancestry 
and  history,  and  he  was  often  careless  and  hasty.    There 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 


f)7 


was  no  other  writer  like  him,  and  he  had  a  style  no 
one  would  be  inclined,  perhaps,  to  copy,  and  he  saw- 
that  the  attractiveness  of  his  writings  did  not  lie  in 
their  rhetorical  merits.  He  was  often  urged  by  friends 
to  publish  in  a  book  his  celebrated  "  Russell's  letters 
from  the  Battle  Fields,"  written  for  the  Boston  Traveller. 
But  he  would  never  consent.  He  never  seemed  to 
take  any  pride  in  them.  To  one  who  looks  over  his 
writings,  from  whatever  quarter  of  the  world  they  come, 
there  is  the  same  appearance  of  entire  carelessness  of 
literary  effect,  as  though  each  letter  was  for  a  private 
note  to  be  read  but  once  and  thrown  away.  In  1878 
he  showed  a  party  over  Europe,  and  among  them  was 
Miss  Sophia  B.  Packard,  Principal  of  the  Spellman 
Female  Seminary  at  Atlanta,  Georgia.  Miss  Packard 
said  of  him  in  Boston  in  1880  :  "  His  way  of  leading 
the  tourists  up  to  an  interesting  locality,  and  his  graphic 
introduction,  made  the  journey  a  panorama  of  exciting 
views." 

At  the  time  of  Mr.  Conwell's  second  visit  to  England 
as  a  correspondent,  the  London  Times  said  of  him. 
"  Col.  Russell  H.  Conwell,  who  has  been  making  a 
journey  entirely  around  the  world,  sailed  for  home  last 
week.  Col.  Conwell  is  one  of  the  most  noteworthy 
men  of  New  England.  He  has  already  been  in  all 
parts  of  the  world.  He  is  a  writer  of  singular  brilliancy 
and  power,    and  as  a  popular  lecturer  his  success  has 


98  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

been  astonishing.  He  has  made  a  place  beside  such 
orators  as  Beecher,  Phillips  and  Chapin."  This  notice, 
with  many  others  from  the  English  Press  kindly  fur- 
nished us  from  the  Lecture  Bureau,  show  the  esteem  in 
which  as  a  traveler  he  was  held. 

Mr.  Conwell  has  crossed  the  Atlantic  seven  times, 
and  made  one  entire  circuit  of  the  globe.  His  first 
trip  included  a  visit  to  Ireland,  Scotland,  England, 
France,  Switzerland,  Italy,  Greece,  Jerusalem,  Turkey, 
Austria  and  Germany. 

His  second  journey  took  him  to  France,  Italy,  North- 
ern Africa,  Egypt,  Palestine,  Babylon,  Nineveh,  Turkey, 
Russia,  Denmark,  Sweden  and  Scotland.  His  third 
tour  included  a  lecture  trip  in  the  western  Territories 
and  California,  at  which  time  the  Mormon  Tabernacle 
was  crowded  successive  nights  by  an  audience  admitted 
only  by  purchased  tickets  to  hear  the  distinguished 
orator.  He  then  went  on  to  the  Sandwich  Islands, 
through  Japan  into  the  interior  of  China,  and  to  Pekin, 
visited  Sumatra,  Siam,  Burmah,  Madras,  journeyed  to 
the  Himalaya  Mountains,  through  India,  pierced 
Arabia  to  Mecca,  went  to  the  Upper  Nile  and  came 
home  by  the  way  of  Greece,  Italy  and  France.  In  the 
third  trip  to  America  from  France,  the  steamer  Iona 
was  wrecked  at  sea  in  a  fearful  storm,  and  for  twenty- 
one  days  floated  helplessly  in  mid-ocean.  There  was 
much  suffering  and  the  dreadful  experience  has  been 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  99 

often  referred  to  by  Mr.  Conwell  in  his  addresses  and 
books. 

Once,  either  on  his  trip  to  Babylon  or  in  his  journey 
around  the  world  he  was  quarantined  on  a  steamer  in 
the  Red  Sea  with  the  cholera  on  board,  several  deaths 
occuring  daily.  He  is  said  to  have  had  several  narrow 
escapes  among  savage  tribes  in  the  desert,  and  to  have 
been  shot  at  by  gamblers  in  New  Orleans  whose  pre- 
cincts he  had  invaded  for  news,  but  we  never  heard  that 
Mr.  Conwell  has  mentioned  them  in  writing  so  that  the 
particulars  can  be  found  in  print. 

His  next  visit  to  Europe  was  on  a  lecture  tour,  and 
his  last  one  was  at  the  time  of  the  Paris  Exposition 
[1878]  and  has  been  mentioned.  It  may  aid  the  reader 
in  comprehending  our  discussion  of  Mr.  ConwelPs 
traits  as  a  traveler  if  we  insert  here  entire  one  of  his 
letters  from  the  "  Battle  Fields  "  which  we  find  in  the 
Boston  Traveller  of  July  13th,  1869.  The  whole  series 
ought  to  be  collected  for  publication  in  book  form  : 

THE  BATTLE-FIELDS  OF  THE  REBELLION. 

LETTER   FROM   "RUSSELL." 
The  mountains  and  valleys  around  Chattanooga—  The  spirit  nf  the  hills 
—  The  present  appearance  of  Lookout  mountain— A  poor  white  family 
—Chivalry  rampant— Seventeenth  letter— Special  correspondence  of 
the  Traveller. 

THE    MOUNTAINS. 

Oh  the  old  mountains  !  How  we  love  to  gaze  upon 
them  and  dream  !  How  our  soul  fills  with  unspeakable 


IOO  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

pleasure  as  we  contemplate  the  rocky  cliffs,  and  the 
roaring  gorges  of  the  mountains  !  It  is  the  inspired 
pleasure  which  one  feels  only  when  he  looks  upon  the 
mighty  works  of  God.  The  spirit  of  the  hills  and  the 
demons  of  the  mountains !  Are  they  a  myth  ?  Nay. 
Go  !  ye  disbelievers  who  laugh  at  ghost  stories  and 
fairy  tales ; — sit  beside  that  sweet  waterfall  on  the 
cliffy  side  of 

LOOKOUT    MOUNTAIN, 

and  tell  us  if  ye  doubt  their  existence  then.  Go  !  sit  on 
the  jutting  rock  that  is  bathed  with  the  spray,  and  gaze 
up  at  the  little  stream  as  it  leaps  over  the  rock  forty 
feet  above  !  and  then  at  the  snowy  spray-cloud  that  rolls 
and  floats  away,  away  down  among  the  bushes  and 
trees  forty  feet  below.  The  stout  old  trees  creak  and 
sway  in  the  winds  above,  the  pines  down  the  mountain 
side  moan,  and  the  wTaterfall  laughs.  Away  through 
the  trees  are  those  other  mountains,  shadowy  and  blue, 
just  veiling  the  sky  of  the  far-off  horizon.  He  that  can 
sit  here  alone,  surrounded  by  these  jagged  rocks  and 
monumental  mountains,  and  see  no  German  fairies, 
English  ghosts,  Arabian  peris,  or  Norwegian  demons 
hath  surely  no  taste  for  natural  beauty,  nor  a  fit  ap- 
preciation of  the  awe-inspiring  works  of  the  Almighty. 
Deny  it,  ye  who  may,  the  mountains  do  have  souls, 
and  their  children,  the  fairies,  do  have  influence  upon 
the  destinies  of  men.     Else  why  is  it   that   the  men 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  IOI 

of  the  mountains  are  always  hardier,  happier  and 
greater  lovers  of  freedom  than  they  of  the  plains 
and  valleys  ?  Why  are  the  people  of  the  hills  more 
generous,  loftier  minded  and  braver  than  their  brethren 
of  the  prairie  ?  If  the  fairies  do  not  assist  their  human 
proteges,  how  came  Switzerland  free  ?  Far,  far  along 
the  highway  of  history,  who  were  the  conquerers  ?  Who 
were  the  patrons  of  civilization  ?  Who  were  the  martyrs  ? 
Men  of  the  mountains.  Who  march  into  the  city  with 
less  education,  less  capital  than  their  competitors,  and 
soon  lead  the  march  toward  the  land  of  plenty  and 
wealth  ?  Who  came  down  from  the  North  and  the  West 
and  on  the  cragged  side  of  this  same  mountain  gained 
a  Switzerlandish  victory  ?  The  men  of  the  fairy-filled 
mountains.  Men  of  the  city  die  off,  and  men  of  the 
hills,  floating  down  on  the  roaming  cataracts,  fill  their 
places.  On  the  ocean,  in  the  warehouses,  on  the 
rostrum,  in  the  halls  of  legislation,  in  the  army  or  on 
the  throne,  the  men  of  the  mountains  are  found,  rugged 
as  their  native  hills,  as  high  minded  as  their  mountains, 
and  as  generous  as  their  valleys  are  deep.  Don't  say, 
then,  that  there  is  no  spirit  of  the  hills,  or  that  there  are 
no  fairies.  Wherever  the  mountains  are  grand  and  the 
chasms  deep,  wherever  the  waterfalls  tinkle  or  the 
torrent  bellows,  there  dwell  the  little  beings  that  in- 
fluence man's  character.  Do  you  say  it  is  only  the 
mountains  ?    How  can  cold  dirt  make  men  better  or 


102  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

wiser?  But  be  it  fairy  or  hob-goblin,  dirt  or  rock,  men 
do  become  braver  and  nobler  for  dwelling  in  the 
mountains.     Hence 

new  England's  position 

in  the  nation.  Hence  the  reason  why  her  ideas  and 
actions  are  noted  and  imitated  everywhere  within  the 
borders  of  this  nation.  Oh,  glorious  mountains  !  safe- 
guard of  American  freedom  !  go  on  with  your  divinely 
appointed  mission.  For  while  you  stand,  and  while 
the  granite  melts  not  or  the  waterfalls  cease  not, 
freedom  will  be  the  watchword,  at  least  in  all  New 
England.  And  here  to,  in  East  Tennessee,  how  the 
men  of  the  mountains  fought  for  liberty  during  the  war 
of  the  rebellion.  Here  they  dared  everything.  Here 
they  were  robbed,  slandered  and  murdered.  But  yet 
firm  as  these  high  peaks,  their  survivors  fought  on. 
To  be  a  union  man  then  meant  death.  What  was  that 
to  them  ?  The  mountains  taught  them  the  value  of 
freedom  and  did  not  leave  them  nerveless  in  the 
presence  of  the  Eastern  Tennessee  hot-beds.  Here, 
too,  came  the  men  of  the  hills  to  conquer  slavery  and 
rebellion.  They  were  at  the  bottom  of  a  mountain 
nearly  a  mile  in  height,  looking  up  to  the  cliffs.  Brave 
natives  of  the  plains  were  on  the  top  and  glaring  down. 
Yet  the  spirit  of  the  mountains  came  up  and  conquered. 
Do  the  bovs  remember  that  Lookout  Mountain  battle  ? 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST.  IO3 

Gen.  Hooker  himself  did  not  believe  it  could  be  done. 
"  Tell  them  to  come  back,"  shouted  the  General  in 
command.  But  no  notice  of  orders  directing  a  retreat 
was  taken,  and  onward  and  upward  they  went,  climb- 
ing precipices,  rocks  and  trees,  swinging  up  to  the  edge 
of  ledges, — pulling  one  another  up  among  the  clouds, — 
caring  nothing  for  the  hideous  shell  that  came  crash- 
ing down  among  the  trees,  until  the  citadel  was  taken, 
and  one  more  victory  for  freedom  was  recorded  in  the 
world's  history.  Grand  old  mountain !  Grand  old 
soldiers  of  a  grand  old  people !  How  proud  of  our 
nation,  our  country  and  our  people,  were  we,  the  day 
we  visited  Lookout  Mountain.  The  changes  were 
many  which  intervened  between  that  immortal  day  and 
the  day  when  we  were  there.  The  rifle-pits  which 
Hooker's  Division  carried  and  from  which  his  forces 
charged  up  the  mountain  had  nearly  all  washed  away  ; 
enough  was  left,  however,  to  mark  the  direction  of  the 
line,  and  recall  to  mind  the  terrible  events  of 
"  That  great  avenging  day." 
But,  farther  up 

THE    MOUNTAIN'S    SIDE, 

the  trees  and  moss  have  grown  anew,  the  bushes  which 
the  soldiers  uprooted  as  they  pulled  themselves  up  have 
decayed  and  given  place  to  others,  and  nothing  remains 
to  remind  us  of  war.     "  Nothing  !  "  did  we  say  ?  Not 


104  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

so.     Under    a   little    pine    tree,    near   the    precipitous 
ledge,  which  the  "  boys  "  will  remember,  we  found 

A    HUMAN    SKELETON. 

We  were  pulling  ourselves  along  up  the  edge  of  the 
rock,  and  finding  our  footing  insecure,  we  seized  upon 
a  proffered  branch  of  a  neighborly  pine.  Up  it  came 
by  the  roots,  taking  with  it  the  thin  scale  of  soil  which 
covered  the  rock,  and  exposing  to  the  sun  the  grinning 
skull  of  a  Union  soldier.  Near  it  was  an  old  Spring- 
field musket,  covered  with  rust  and  broken  in  twain 
near  the  lock.  The  bayonet,  so  blackened  and  tar- 
nished that  we  first  took  it  for  a  stick,  was  thrust 
into  the  ground  near  the  skull,  and  the  finger  bones  lay 
about  it  as  if  the  soldier  had  clasped  it  when  he  died. 
A  bundle,  which  had  evidently  been  a  knapsack,  lay  a 
few  feet  off,  and  had  the  appearance  of  being  in  use  as 
a  bird's  nest.  For  the  little  pieces  of  the  blue  overcoat 
and  threads  of  the  gray  blanket  were  neatly  arranged 
in  the  shape  of  a  nest,  which,  however,  had  been  torn 
by  a  fox  or  other  marauding  animal.  In  all  proba- 
bility the.  little  bird  made  her  nest  in  the  decaying 
knapsack,  and  the  little  four-footed  enemy  of  birdly 
innocence  came,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  soldiers' 
bones,  broke  the  eggs  and  killed  the  songster.  It  was 
a  matter  of  surprise  to  us  that  the  wild  beasts  which 
came  so  near  to  search  for  eggs,  should  not  disturb  the 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  105 

bones  of  the  lost  soldiers.  A  few  pieces  of  the  spinal 
column  lay  scattered  around,  but  otherwise  the  skeleton 
was  entire.  Near  the  spot  we  found  a  U.  S.  Infantry 
button,  and  the  soles  of  a  pair  of  shoes,  but  nothing  to 
identify  the  man  who  gave  his  life  for  the  nation,  in 
that  fearful  charge.  Whose  son  or  brother  he  was, 
whose  husband  or  father,  eternity  alone  can  tell !  Yet 
we  could  not  avoid  the  thought  as  we  stood  gazing 
upon  the  sad  scene,  that  perchance  somebody  who  read 
the  Traveller,  or  some  one  we  personally  knew,  might  be 
the  dearest  one  to  this  soldier  of  Hooker's  corps  from 
whom  his  friends  had  never  heard. 

"  Never  been  heard  from,"  is  his  record  on  the  page 
of  history  !  "  Dead  "  in  the  records  of  mortals.  "  In 
heaven  "  we  hope  in  the  records  of  eternity.  With  no 
implements  to  bury  them,  and  no  soil  deep  enough  if 
we  had,  we  could  not  do  otherwise  than  clamber  on, 
leaving  the  bones  to  be  ground  into  dust  by  the  merci- 
less hand  of  time. 

PULPIT    ROCK 

from  which  Jeff  Davis  harangued  the  Confederates, 
and  near  which  the  rebels  had  some  of  their  heaviest 
guns,  appears  as  familiar  as  an  old  friend,  and  seems 
to  smile  in  derision  at  the  changeable  growth  and 
decay  that  has  been  going  on  around.  The  shell-split 
trees  have  recovered  from  their  wounds,  the  earthworks 
have  washed  away,    the  hospital  buildings  and  neoro 


106  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

huts  are  gone,  yet  the  old  rock  stands  on  the  summit  like 
a  sentinel,  and  will  stand  there  in  the  hundred  years  to 
come,  to  tell  the  story  of  the  slave-holding  rebellion, 
and  the  charge  of  the  national  troops.  To  us,  whose 
pride  had  been  touched  in  the  days  of  war,  it  seemed 
to  say.  "  When  I  remind  visitors  of  the  battle,  I  also 
insinuate  that  below  me,  the  troops  of  the  stigmatized 
'  paper  collar  division  '  rebutted  the  slurs  that  the 
Western  troops  saw  fit  to  cast  upon  them  for  belonging 
to  the  spade-and-shovel  army  of  the  Potomac."  But 
with  the  history  of  rebellion  or  battles  we  have  little  to 
do,  hence  we  pass  on  down  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
great  mountain  to  ascertain 

HOW    CHATTANOOGA    APPEARS 

to-day.  The  old  forts  which  crowned  every  hill  around 
the  little  town,  look  like  the  Indian  mounds  of  Illinois ; 
no  regularity,  no  apparent  design.  Little  artificial  hills 
and  valleys  only.  Few  soldiers,  were  it  not  for  the  ever- 
lasting hills  around,  which  God  made,  would  recognize 
the  forts  they  garrisoned  ;  so  torn  and  shattered,  decayed 
and  washed  are  they  now.  A  few  years  and  even  these 
red  mounds  will  have  disappeared  and  the  "  great  rail- 
road centre  "  of  Chattanooga  will  not  dream  of  battle  or 
siege.  The  town  itself  has  not  recovered  from  the  war, 
i.  e.,  unless  it  always  had  a  forsaken,  slovenly  appear- 
ance.     Removing    the    tents,    the    barracks,   and   the 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  107 

stables,  and  filling  the  quarter-master's  stores  and  the 
commissary  warehouses  with  peanuts  and  candy,  soda 
water  and  persimmon  beer  is  a  sinking  in  poetry  that 
strikes  the  returner  first  as  being  a  little  ridiculous. 

THE    OLD    HEAD-QUARTERS, 

where  Thomas,  Grant,  Sherman  and  McPherson  had 
their  quarters,  still  stands  near  the  town  house,  so 
unchanged  that  we  felt  as  if  one  of  them  ought  to  be 
sitting  on  the  porch. 

A  new  bridge  has  been  built  across  the  river,  and 
the  old  swing  ferry  is  going  to  decay.  Cameron's  hill, 
with  its  washed  earthworks,  is  said  to  be  destined  for 
the  grounds  and  mansion  of  a  Massachusetts  man  who 
went  to  Chattanooga  to  engage  in  building  the  new 
railroad  line  South  to  Charleston,  S.  C.  Some  ruins 
and  dilapidated  walls  of  houses  destroyed  during  the 
war  still  remain,  although  many  have  been  cleared 
away  preparatory  to  reconstruction.  The  old  railroad 
depot  still  bears  the  marks  of  the  soldiers'  pen-knives, 
and  the  name  of  many  a  sentinel  who  wished  thus  to 
immortalize  it,  stands  out  in  bold  relief  from  the  soft 
boards  in  which  it  is  carved.  The  short  train  of  half 
loaded  cars  that  now  come  and  go,  form  a  striking  con- 
trast with  the  long,  over-loaded  trains  that  came  and 
went  when  Sherman  was  marching  on  Atlanta.  The 
fields  around  which  were  covered  so  thick  with  tents 


I08  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

when  Bragg  threatened  the  town,  and  on  which  has 
been  so  many  brigade  drills  and  dress  parades,  are  now 
verdant  with  growing  grain. 

It  was  exceedingly  gratifying  amid  the  many  changes 
that  have  taken  place,  to  see  at  least  one  familiar 
object.  The  national  flag  was  there.  About  half  way 
between  Orchard  Knob  and  the  town  and  near  the 
Chattanooga  and  Knoxville  railroad,  stands  the 

NATIONAL    CEMETERY, 

and  above  it,  in  all  its  pride  and  glory,  waves  the  ensign 
of  the  United  States.      When  we  visited  the  cemetery 

A    TOUCHING    INCIDENT 

occurred,  which  we  cannot  refrain  from  putting  on 
record.  It  was  nearly  dark.  The  flag  was  hauled 
down,  the  keeper  had  shut  the  gate,  and  the  dew  was 
beginning  to  fall.  We  clambered  over  the  fence,  and 
strayed  among  the  graves,  endeavoring  to  find  how 
many  of  the  2nd  and  33rd  Massachusetts  lay  there,  sup- 
posing ourselves  to  be  the  only  persons  in  the  grounds. 
Suddenly  from  a  little  clump  of  graves  beyond  the 
flag-staff,  a  voice  as  clear  and  sweet  as  an  angel's  rose 
singing  the  familiar  words, 

"  When  we  hear  the  music  ringing 

In  the  bright  Celestial  dome, 
When  sweet  angel  voices  singing, 

Gladly  bid  us  welcome  home, 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  109 

To  the  land  of  ancient  story, 

Where  the  spirit  knows  no  care, 
In  that  land  of  light  and  glory, 

Shall  we  know  each  other  there  ?  " 

Had  a  voice  from  the  tomb  pronounced  the  approach 
of  the  last  great  day  we  could  not  have  been  more 
startled — so  quiet  and  still  had  the  cemetery  been. 
For  a  moment  we  stared  in  the  direction  from  which 
the  voice  proceeded,  uncertain  whether  all  the  ghost 
stories  of  our  youth  were  not  coming  true,  and  hoping 
if  it  was  the  voice  of  a  spirit  that  it  would  wait  for  us 
"  to  retreat  in  good  order "  before  it  resorted  to  any 
fiercer  demonstration  to  deprive  us  of  our  wits.  After 
a  second  thought,  however,  we  concluded  that  it  was 
the  voice  of  a  woman,  and  as  some  women  are  but 
our  ideals  of  angels,  it  did  not  take  much  from  the 
interest  of  the  occasion.  Going  up  to  the  flag-staff 
as  silently  as  we  could  we  sat  down  upon  a  mound, 
when  the  second  verse  began  we  endeavored  to  chime 
in  the  bass,  In  that  we  were  unkind.  We  ought 
to  have  known  that  if  a  woman's  voice  could  startle 
us,  how  much  more  alarming  it  would  be  to  a  woman 
to  hear  a  voice  at  once  suggestive  of  the  men  whose 
graves  surrounded  her,  singing  such  a  song  with 
her.  But  we  did  not  stop  to  think.  Impulse,  nothing 
else,  was  our  motive.  So  we  sang ;  with  just  such 
a   consequence   as  any  man  of  common  sense  might 


110  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

have  foreseen.  She  had  reached  the  chorus,  in  which 
the  bass  repeats  the  words  "shall  He  know,"  while 
the  soprano  prolongs  the  sound  of  the  word  "  know," 
before  she  seemed  to  discover  that  she  was  not  sing- 
ing alone,  and  with  a  shriek  as  piercing  as  the  song 
was  sweet,  a  lady  in  black  started  from  the  grave  of 
a  soldier,  exclaiming  in  hysterics,  "  What  is  that  ? 
Oh  !  Oh  !  Oh  !  Don't  hurt  me  !  Oh  !  Oh  !  Oh  ! 
My  God.  Oh  dear.  Oh!  dear.  Oh !  dear.  What 
shall  I  do?" 

I  "  did  not  intend  to  frighten  you.  I  am  exceedingly 
sorry  for  it,"  said  I,  stepping  out  from  the  staff. 

"  Oh,  sir,  was  it  you  ?  Did  you  sing  ?  "  exclaimed  she, 
wiping  her  eyes  with  a  handkerchief,  and  uttering  an 
hysterical  laugh,  half  cry  and  half  laugh,  and  looking 
wildly  toward  the  gate. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  that  my  singing  frightened  you," 
said  I,  "  but  it  is  a  question  which  of  us  was  the  most 
startled." 

So  saying,  we  offered  to  escort  her  home,  as  it  was 
growing  dark.  But  this  she  declined,  saying,  she 
wished  to  stay  a  while  longer  near  this  spot,  as  she 
"  must  go  to-morrow,"  and  we  left  her  kneeling  by  the 
grave  of  an  Ohio  soldier,  murmuring  again  the  song 
"  Shall  we  know  each  other  there  ?  "  Ten  thousand 
conjectures  have  we  cooked  up  in  regard  to  this  lady 
and  why  she  was  there.     But  as  we  did  not  see  her  again 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  Ill 

and  none  of  our  explanations  may  be  the  true  one,  we 
must  leave  this  tale  so  far  uncompleted. 
The  next  day  we  strolled  along 

MISSIONARY    RIDGE, 

to  find  such  traces  as  might  remain  of  that  great  Novem- 
ber battle  when  the  troops  by  unexampled  bravery 
outgeneraled  their  own  officers.  But  the  growth  of  the 
woods  and  the  action  of  the  heavy  rains  have  obliterated 
nearly  every  mark  of  the  battle,  and  without  a  guide  a 
stranger  to  the  field  must  have  great  difficulty  in  find- 
ing the  "  line  of  battle."  Occasionally  a  shattered  tree 
here  and  there  an  old  shell  in  the  thicket,  and  little 
open  spots  where  works  once  stood,  are  all  that  is  left 
on  the  spot  to  tell  the  tale  of  wrar.  All  the  soldiers  who 
were  buried  here,  both  federal  and  confederate,  have 
been  taken  up  and  removed  to  Chattanooga.  Near  the 
place  where  Sherman's  division  made  the  "  most 
brilliant  charge  of  the  war  "  we  found  the 

PICKET    POSTS, 

in  some  instances  just  as  the  soldiers  had  left  them 
five  years  ago.  Some  were  of  standing  logs,  one  end 
on  the  ground  and  the  other  leaning  against  a  tree, 
several  of  which  were  placed  near  enough  together 
to  protect  the  picket  behind  them,  while  he  rested  his 
gun  across   the  top.     In  other  places   short  pieces  of 


112  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

stone-wall,  or  a  leaf-filled  hole  in  the  ground,  showed 
where  some  picket  took  measures  to  protect  himself. 
For  hours  we  traveled,  clambering  up  rocks,  over  trees, 
and  through  groves,  until  starting  clown  the  mountain 
towards  Chickamauga  creek,  we  stepped  in  at 

A    MUD-CHINKED    LOG  HOVEL, 

to  rest  and  get  out  of  the  blistering  sun.  The  hut  was 
occupied  by  a  thin,  tall  woman,  about  forty  years  of 
age,  a  man  of  about  the  same  age,  and  a  little  boy  of 
ten  years.  All  three  were  the  dirtiest,  raggedest 
filthiest  persons  we  ever  saw  north  of  Georgia.  The 
woman  was  sucking  a  snuff-daubed  rag  in  her  mouth, 
and  snuffing  the  same  nasty  material  up  her  nose. 
The  man's  chin  and  grizzly  whiskers  were  dripping  with 
tobacco  juice,  his  feet  were  bare,  and  on  his  head  was 
a  remnant  of  a  faded  felt  hat,  while  with  the  old  pipe 
in  his  mouth,  his  general  appearance  gave  us  a  good 
personification  of  indolence  and  poverty.  The  little 
boy  seemed  to  have  inherited  all  the  worst  character- 
istics of  them  both,  which,  together  with  an  acquired 
taste  for  swearing  and  kicking  his  mother,  made  him 
"master  of  the  position."  When  we  rapped  at  the 
door  the  little  boy  came  to  the  door  before  his  lazy 
ancestors  could  muster  sufficient  courage  to  rise,  and 
kicking  our  shins  demanded  if  we  didn't  know  better 
than  to  be  "  around  a  gemman's  house   making    sich  a 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  I  1 3 

cussed  row."  The  old  man  came,  however,  and  by 
means  of  sundry  kicks  and  cuffs  succeeded  in  quieting 
the  human  animal,  and  at  once  invited  us  in. 

"  Do  you  live  here  ?  "  inquired  we  for  want  of  any- 
thing else  to  say. 

"Wall,  thcr  old  ooman  and  I  manage  to  stop  here," 
said  the  man  ;  "ony  Bill  here  ;  he's  kind  o'  unsettled. 
Bill  is  kind  o'  rude  sometimes ;  but  sez  I  ter  ther  old 
ooman  t'other  day,  we  mustn't  lick  Bill  as  we  would  a 
nigger ;  and  sez  she  ter  me,  I  don't  think  I  would 
nuther.     So  we  don't." 

The  conversation  then  turned  upon  the  weather  and 
several  topics,  and  finally  we  asked  him  what  he  man- 
aged to  do  for  a  living. 

"  Der,"  said  he,  "  I  first  works  round,  gits  a  few  dol- 
lars huntin'  or  diggin'  wild  arbs,  and  then  I  cums  hum  to 
ole  ooman,  and  sez  I  to  her,  let's  'joy  it,  and  so  we  'joy 
it.  If  Bill  wan't  unsettled,  wede  be  putty  good  situ- 
ated. But  ther  cussed  niggers  are  leavin'  or  dyin'  off, 
and  some  on  us  are  gettin'  fraid  we'll  get  starved  out 
some  day." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  get  a  better  living  if  the 
negroes  were  gone,"  said  I. 

"  O,  no.  The  niggers  have  always  dun  the  dirty 
work,  an'  all  the  liftin'  an'  sich,  which  as  how  the  white 
folks  of  my  persuasion  ain't  able  to  do,  an'  wouldn't  ef 
ther  could.     Ther  niggers  were  made  to  wait  on  us 


114  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

white  folks,  an'  I'd  like  ter  know  what  in  the  devil  ther 
would  do  if  they  didn't  look  arter  white  folks.  They 
hain't  got  nothin'.  Ef  ther  Yankees  are  goin'  ter  free 
them  and  carry  them  all  off  to  Lobeli  or  Liberia,  or 
sumwhar,  I  be  dummed  ef  I'll  do  another  scratch  o' 
work.  Besides  ther  ole  ooman  is  the  same  pinnion, 
an'  I'd  jest  like  to  ter  know  what  in  creation  ther  gov- 
ernment'll  do  then." 

"  The  negroes  are  free  now,"  said  we,  "  and  over 
twelve  hundred  thousand  have  died  off  since  the  war." 

He  started  to  his  feet  in  astonishment  at  the  news, 
exclaiming,  "Ther  devil !  is  that  so,  stranger?  " 

"  Wall,"  continued  he,  filling  his  pipe,  and  putting  in 
a  fresh  quid,  "  I  dun  know  as  I  care  fer  ther  folks  down 
at  the  salt  water  as  long  as  ther  folks  'round  here  don't 
git  white  men  like  me  ter  dewin  nigger's  work." 

"  Do  you  own  this  land  around  here  ? "  inquired  we, 
glancing  out  of  the  door. 

"  Lor',  lor'  no,"  said  he,  apparently  astonished  at 
the  question,  "this  land  an' cabin  allers  belonged  to 
Col.  Billins,  only  I've  lived  in  this  place  ser  long  he 
sez  ter  me  tother  day,  sez  he,  '  Mr.  Farler,  yer  needn't 
never  move.'     So  now  I  'joy  life." 

"  I  should  think  since  the  war  it  would  be  hard  to 
get  a  comfortable  living,"  said  we. 

"  No  trouble  'tall,  none  'tall.  The  ole  ooman  an'  I 
an'  Bill  we  eat  taters  mostly,  unless  corn  be  handy ; 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  115 

an'  we  does  it  jest  ter  bring  up  Bill  ter  be  independent. 
A  man  ken  live  on  mighty  little  ef  he  jest  sets  'bout  it. 
I  think  more  of  my  terbacker  than  onything  otherwise, 
an*  so  does  ther  ole  ooman.     So  we  jest  'joys  life." 

"Were  you  in  the  army?"  returned  we. 

"  Lor',  no.  I  'joyed  life  ter  hum.  '  Sides,  when  I  did 
talk  of  goin',  Col.  Billins  said  as  may  be  I'd  hev  ter 
fight  'long  er  niggers,  an'  I  never  could  belower  myself 
ter  that  nohow." 

"  You  would  have  joined  the  Northern  army  then, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  negroes  would  you  ?"  asked  we. 

"Jine  ther  Yankees!"  exclaimed  he,  excitedly, 
"  Me,  a  Southerner,  born  in  Marion  County,  Georgia, 
an'  brought  up  with  'ligious  principles !  Put  me  on  a 
level  with  niggers  arid  Yankees,  an'  willinly  cum  ter  be 
a  slave  !  That's  a  'sinuation,  sir,  agin  my  character.  I'd 
like  ter  know  how  you  dare  cum  inter  a  gemman's  house 
an'  'sinuate  agin  his  honor  as  a  gemman.  I  allers  de- 
fend my  honor,  sir,  with  my  life,  der  yer  know  that  ? " 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  offend  you,  sir,  although  I  am 
not  afraid  of  a  dozen  such  white-livered  ragamuffins  as 
you  are,"  said  we.  [A  little  light  brag  when  taken  in 
the  light  of  subsequent  events.] 

This  was  too  much  for  the  whole  family,  and  with 
one  accord  they  arose  to  attack  us.  The  old  man  made 
for  the  gun  which  hung  on  the  hooks  over  the  back 
door,  the   old  woman  yelling  "  Oh,  you  old  coward," 


Il6  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

seized  the  iron  shovel  from  the  fire-place  and  the  boy 
rushed  up  and  began  to  kick  at  us.  In  such  a  predica- 
ment we  were  not  a  little  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do. 
There  was  only  one  room  in  the  hut,  and  the  only  way 
out  of  that  was  to  pass  the  man  with  the  gun. 

"  Give  me  my  powder  and  shot,  ole  ooman,"  shouted 
the  man. 

"Ole  dad  is  gewin  ter  salt  yer,  yer  ole  white  nigger, " 
shouted  the  son. 

But  thinking  discretion  to  be,  in  this  instance,  the 
better  part  of  valor,  we  marched  by  the  old  man,  tell- 
ing him  he  need  not  load  that  gun  for  us ;  and  left  the 
excited  chevalier's  family  all  gazing  out  of  the  door 
after  us,  and  shouting,  "  You're  a  coward  !  Yer  insult 
women  and  children !  Yer  daresn't  fight  at  twelve 
paces!"  etc.,  etc.  We  regarded  the  ignorant,  tobacco- 
worshiping  "poor  whites"  as  little  better  than  wild 
beasts,  and  felt  easier  when  their  hut  was  out  of  sight, 
as  we  should  have  felt  had  it  been  a  tiger's  den  we  had 
entered  unarmed  instead  of  a  human  dwelling.  What- 
ever ridicule  we  may  incur  for  permitting  the  represen- 
tative of  the  Traveller  to  be  so  easily  defeated  we  do 
not  know ;  but  we  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  the  retreat  was  conducted  in  a  more  masterly  man- 
ner than  many  retrograde  movements  of  the  war,  for 
which  the  commanding  generals  of  the  army  claimed 
high  honors.  Russell." 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  1 17 

During  his  journeys  Mr.  Conwell  often  visited  Gen- 
eral Garabaldi,  in  Italy,  and  at  his  island  home.  They 
kept  up  a  correspondence  on  matters  of  Italian  history 
until  the  general's  death.  General  Garabaldi  called 
Mr.  Conwell's  attention  to  the  heroic  deeds  of  that  ad- 
mirer of  America,  the  great  and  patriotic  Venetian 
statesman,  Daniel  Manin.  Mr.  Conwell  spent  a  long 
time  gathering  materials  for  a  biography  of  Daniel 
Manin,  and  just  before  it  was  ready  for  the  press  the 
manuscript  was  destroyed  by  fire  in  the  destruction  of 
his  home  at  Newton  Centre,  Mass.,  in  1880.  Mr.  Con- 
well's  graphic  lectures  on  Italian  history  will  never  be 
forgotten  by  his  hearers.  Whether  Mr.  Conwell  has 
undertaken  to  rewrite  the  life  of  Daniel  Manin,  we 
can  not  say.  Every  patriotic  American  should  know 
the  history  of  that  foreigner  whose  love  for  this  country 
which  he  had  never  visited  was  so  fervent. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    MINISTER. 

Turning  from  the  world — Beginning  to  preach  —  Sunday 
schools — Missions — Second  marriage — The  Lexington 
church  building  by  faith  —  Ge?ierous  helpers  —  The 
church  bell — His  ordination — The  call  to  Philadelphia 
— Church  life — Great  growth — The  new  church  build- 
ing— Published  accounts. 

AS  will  be  seen  by  the  statements  following,  we 
are  very  largely  indebted  to  friends  in  Boston 
and  in  Philadelphia  for  the  information  con- 
tained in  this  chapter.  It  is  a  romantic  turn  in  an 
exciting  life.  When  Charles  the  Fifth  abdicated  his 
throne  and  went  into  a  monastery,  the  world  wondered. 
It  was  a  like  spirit  which  sent  the  lawyer  and  politician 
into  the  Christian  ministry.  All  the  cherished  ambitions 
of  life  were  thrown  aside,  and  all  the  hopes  of  his 
friends  who  saw  high  preferment  just  before  him  were 
disappointed.  Sought  as  an  author,  praised  as  an  ora- 
tor, courted  as  a  scholar  and  successful  as  a  lawyer,  he 
laid  down  all  and  completely  abandoned  all  the  cher- 
ished plans  of  life.     He  was  thirty-six  years  old,  and 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  119 

his  success  was  certain  in  the  life  he  had  followed.  In 
the  ministry  all  was  uncertain.  An  entire  revolution. 
To  give  up  all  the  expectation  of  riches  and  honors, 
and  to  face  the  criticisms  and  fears  of  his  best  friends, 
and  turn  away  to  take  up  an  humble  mission  wherein 
there  could  be  neither  hope  of  wealth  nor  a  prospect  of 
fame,  was  of  the  strange  things  in  human  life.  He 
buried  every  hope  of  earthly  advancement,  and  sunk 
himself  into  expected  oblivion.  He  seemed  to  deter- 
mine to  hide  himself  in  Christian  work  for  the  poor. 
His  neighboring  preachers  say  that  he  shuns  office  and 
prominence,  and  in  the  city  where  his  name  has  become 
a  household  word  there  are  many  preachers  who  have 
scarcely  seen  him.  No  hint  of  honors  and  no  proffers 
of  gain  turn  him  again  to  ambitious  paths.  A  friend 
who  visited  Philadelphia  in  1888  wrote,  "This  seems 
almost  incredible  to  me,  that  the  humble,  plain  man 
who  is  awkward  often  and  simple  always  is  so  differ- 
ent from  the  Col.  Conwell  we  used  to  know.  He  is  the 
lawyer  no  more.  You  should  see  him  traversing  the 
alleys  in  night  and  rain  and  cold,  and  it  would  be  a 
surprise  indeed,  because  he  seems  wholly  devoted  to 
that  work.  The  dying  call  for  him  by  night  and  by 
day,  and  lots  of  the  poor  dog  his  steps  for  aid.  He 
goes  at  every  call,  and  has  forgotten  all  his  old,  ac- 
tive, public  life." 

His  change  of  profession  was  almost  as  complete  a 


120  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

renunciation  of  the  world  as  if  he  had  entered  a  monas- 
tery. Yet  the  Master  Mind  who  seeth  all  things  has 
avenues  to  nobility  closed  to  all  but  those  who  trust 
humbly  in  Him. 

Mr.  Conwell  says  that  his  mind  was  turned  toward  the 
ministry  by  the  death  of  his  wife  in  Somerville,  Mass., 
in  187 1.  She  left  two  little  children,  one  daughter  (now 
married)  and  a  son.  They  had  struggled  with  an  un- 
usually varied  life,  and  were  just  entering  a  prosperous 
period  when  the  wife  of  his  youth  died  suddenly  of 
some  quick  disease.  "  Vanity  !  All  is  Vanity  !  "  was 
his  cry.  He  entered  then  most  enthusiastically  into 
Sabbath  school  work,  and  gave  addresses  at  Sabbath 
schools  all  over  New  England.  The  children  hailed 
his  coming  with  delighted  faces.  He  began  also  to 
preach  evenings  at  mission  stations,  and  one  of  the  mis- 
sions at  which  he  was  the  first  preacher  is  now  the 
prosperous  West  Somerville  Baptist  Church.  He  had 
studied  theology  for  years,  as  a  pastime  or  recreation, 
so  he  stepped  into  the  labor  full  fledged.  He  went  to 
any  place  to  preach  if  there  was  good  before  it,  and  he 
often  spoke  to  sailors  on  the  wharves,  and  to  the  Sun- 
day loafers  he  gave  sermons  from  a  barrel  top.  It  did 
not  make  much  difference  where,  as  his  heart  turned 
toward  the  sorrowing  and  the  lost.  But  the  event 
which  set  the  current  into  its  final  channel  was  his 
marriage  in   1873  to  a  lady  of  a  most  respected  family, 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  12  1 

Miss  Sarah  F.  Sanborn  of  Newton  Centre,  Mass.  We 
have  been  told  that  he  met  the  lady  at  a  German  mis- 
sion school  in  a  suburb  of  Boston,  where  she  was  a 
teacher.  It  was  in  the  same  work  they  met.  Her 
family  were  wealthy  and  influential,  and  they  were  also 
fully  christian.  Among  the  intimate  friends  of  her 
family  was  the  Rev.  Alvah  Hovey,  D.  D.,  President  of 
the  Newton  Baptist  Theological  Seminary.  It  was  he 
who  gave  Mr.  Conwell  the  quick-witted  advice  when 
asked  how  to  decide  if  "  called  to  the  ministry."  The 
reverend  doctor  said,  "If  people  are  called  to  hear  you, 
then  you  can  safely  claim  you  are  called  to  preach." 

Mr.  Conwell  and  Miss  Sanborn  were  married  at  her 
brother's  fine  residence  on  Seminary  Hill,  Newton 
Centre,  and  immediately  took  up  their  residence  in 
Mr.  Conwell's  new  home  on  College  Hill,  Somerville, 
Mass.  For  a  time  he  continued  his  law  practice  and 
engaged  in  building  enterprises  and  real  estate  specu- 
lations. But  it  was  all  unsatisfactory,  and  he  says  that 
work  became  merest  drudgery.  It  had  no  attraction 
to  him,  and  it  seemed  to  bring  only  trouble  and  loss. 
Providence  set  its  tide  against  him,  and  he  pulled 
against  the  stream.  He  tried  to  satisfy  his  conscience 
by  taking  a  bible  class  in  the  Baptist  church  at  Tre- 
mont  Temple,  Boston.  But  that  only  intensified  his 
unrest.  His  class  beginning  with  four  scholars,  in  a 
few  months  numbered  six  hundred  regular  registered 


122  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

attendants.  His  influence  grew  too  strong.  Uncon- 
sciously to  him,  he  found  petty  jealousies  arising  con- 
cerning the  influence  of  the  active  body  of  christians 
over  which  he  presided  because  he  was  not  an  ordained 
minister.  As  that  devoted  company  showed  their  love 
for  him  so  strongly,  he  is  said  to  have  felt  then  that  he 
could  do  so  much  more  good  if  he  were  an  ordained 
preacher. 

Just  at  that  time  Mr.  Conwell  was  consulted  as  a 
lawyer  concerning  the  sale  of  an  old  building  and  a 
church  lot  in  Lexington,  Mass.,  formerly  the  property 
of  an  extinct  Baptist  Society  in  Lexington.  His  clients 
wished  to  know  how  the  property  could  be  sold  or  so 
disposed  of  as  to  be  used  in  helping  christian  work 
there  or  elsewhere. 

It  is  said  that  Lawyer  Conwell  visited  the  town  first 
to  call  a  meeting  of  former  members  of  the  Baptist 
Society  to  get  a  legal  vote  to  sell  out  the  old  building. 
Anyhow  when  the  three  or  four  living  representatives 
of  the  former  society  came  together  they  would  not 
vote  either  way.  One  good  old  deacon  wept  to  think 
"Zion  had  gone  into  captivity."  Mr.  Conwell  wrote  to 
a  relative  in  1880  about  it,  and  said,  "  It  flashed  into 
my  mind,  when  there  as  a  lawyer,  that  there  was  a 
mission  for  me  there.  The  town  of  Lexington  is  one 
of  the  finest  for  location,  and  for  the  sterling  integrity 
of  its  people,  to  be  found  anywhere,  and  it  did  seem 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  1 23 

sad  that  the  church  should  fail  there.  An  inspiration 
came  over  me  to  '  Go  preach  His  Gospel '  there,  and  I 
accepted  the  first  invitation  they  gave  me.'' 

Whether  it  was  a  day  or  an  evening  service,  we  do 
not  know,  but  the  residents  of  Lexington  give  an  amus- 
ing account  of  that  first  preaching  service.  There  were 
sixteen  or  seventeen  people  in  the  old  decayed  structure. 
The  windows  were  broken,  and  the  plaster  hanging  in 
great  rifts.  The  old  stove  was  rusted  out  at  the  back, 
and  the  stove  pipe  rusted  out  in  many  places.  The  old 
pulpit  was  what  Mr.  Conwell  called  a  "crow's  perch," 
and  the  pews  were  rotted  and  askew.  It  was  a  cold, 
gloomy,  damp,  dingy  old  box,  they  say.  Mr.  Conwell 
preached.  It  was  a  new  thing  to  hear  a  lawyer  preach- 
ing !  He  went  the  second  Sunday,  and  had  about  forty 
auditors.  But  the  third  Sabbath  it  had  become  noised 
about  who  was  preaching,  and  the  little  old  chapel  was 
dangerously  full.  One  side  of  the  front  steps  did  tum- 
ble down  before  service.  They  tried  to  build  a  fire,  but 
smoked  out  all  the  invalids  who  came  to  the  meeting. 
It  was  rude  and  uncomfortable.  Mr.  Conwell  has  often 
said  that  it  was  that  night,  when  in  his  own  heart  he 
decided  that  a  new  church  should  be  built. 

It  was  all  a  work  of  faith.  For  not  one  step  could  he 
see  ahead,  and  not  a  dollar  had  the  society.  And  no 
members  who  could  give  anything.  Yet  he  believed  that 
a  church  could  be  built.     The  two  or  three  persons  to 


124  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

whom  he  mentioned  his  faith  that  Sunday  night  all  said 
it  would  be  impossible  to  build  a  church  there.  The 
revolutionary  spirit  of  their  fathers  of  1776  was  sleep- 
ing then.  Mr.  Conwell  and  an  aged  christian  man 
spent  that  night  almost  entirely  in  prayer.  In  the 
morning  early  [Monday]  Mr.  Conwell  bought  a  pick 
used  on  the  railroad,  and  a  woodsman's  ax,  and  began 
the  work  without  a  single  subscription,  and  alone.  He 
laid  his  coat  on  an  old  fence,  and  began  work  with  the 
pick.  The  early  risers  on  that  Monday  morning  were 
astonished  to  see  the  lawyer-preacher  swinging  the 
pick  and  tearing  away  the  old  rickety  wooden  steps. 
Plank,  boards  and  timbers  came  tumbling  down  in  heaps 
of  ruin.  The  preacher's  blows  increased  in  strength 
and  number  as  the  work  went  on,  and  the  echo  of  the 
ax  called  the  attention  of  all  the  passers  over  that 
celebrated  Lexington  road.  Some  say  that  it  was  not 
fifteen  minutes  after  he  began  the  work,  and  others  say 
that  it  was  two  hours  after,  and  when  he  was  covered 
with  dust  and  sweat,  that  the  first  man  accosted  him. 
At  all  events  it  was  not  long  after  he  had  begun  before 
a  respected  citizen  of  the  old  town,  but  one  who  seldom 
went  to  church,  came  along  and,  according  to  a  pub- 
lished account,  said :  "  What  in  the  name  of  goodness 
are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  There  is  going  to  be  a  new  church  here,"  answered 
the  preacher. 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  1 25 

"I  guess  you  won't  build  it  with  that  ax,"  said  the 
neighbor,  laughing  at  the  idea. 

"I  confess  I  don't  know  just  how  it  is  going  to  be 
done,"  said  Mr.  Conwell,  "but  in  some  way  it  will  be 
done." 

The  spectator  shouted  at  the  ludicrous  idea,  and 
walked  away.  He  had  not  gone  far  before  he  turned 
about,  and,  walking  up  to  Mr.  Conwell,  seized  the  axe, 
and  said  :  "  See  here,  preacher,  this  is  not  the  kind  of 
work  for  a  parson  or  a  lawyer.  If  you  are  determined 
to  tear  this  old  building  down,  hire  some  one  else  to  do 
it.  It  does  not  look  right  for  you  to  be  lifting  and  pull- 
ing here  in  this  manner." 

"We  have  no  money  to  hire  any  one,  and  the  struct- 
ure must  give  way  if  I  have  to  do  it  all  alone,"  said 
Mr.  Conwell. 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  will  do,"  said  the  visitor,  "  if  you 
will  let  this  alone,  I  will  give  you  one  hundred  dollars 
to  hire  some  one." 

"  We  would  like  the  money,"  said  the  working  min- 
ister, "  and  I  will  take  it  to  hire  some  one,  but  I  shall 
keep  right  on  with  the  work  myself." 

"All  right,"  said  the  visitor.  "  Go  on  if  you  have  set 
your  heart  on  it.  You  may  come  up  to  the  house  for 
the  one  hundred  dollars  any  time  to-day." 

The  donor  passed  up  the  road.  But  he  was  hardly 
out  of  sight  before  a  good  natured  man  who  disliked 


126  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

churches  in  general,  came  along  and  enjoyed  the  fun  of 
seeing  the  minister  puff  at  the  heavy  timbers. 

"  Going  to  pull  the  whole  thing  down  are  you  ?  "  said 
he  to  Mr.  Conwell. 

"Yes,  sir,  and  begin  all  new/'  answered  the  minister. 

"  Who  is  going  to  pay  the  bills  ? "  asked  the  new  visitor. 

"  I  don't  know  now.  But  the  Lord  has  money  some- 
where to  buy  all  we  need/' 

The  man  laughed  heartily  and  said:  "I'll  bet  five 
dollars  to  one,  you  won't  get  the  money  in  this  town." 

"  You  would  lose,"  said  Mr.  Conwell,  "  for  Mr. 

just  came  along  and  gave  me  one  hundred  dollars." 

"Did  you  get  the  cash?"  asked  the  astonished 
spectator. 

"  No,  but  he  told  me  to  call  for  it  to-day." 

"  Well  is  that  so.  I  don't  believe  he  meant  it.  Now 
I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  If  you  really  get  one  hun- 
dred dollars  out  of  that  man,  I  will  give  you  another 
hundred,  and  pay  it  to-night." 

Then  the  preacher  worked  on  alone  all  day.  Passers 
by  called,  one  after  another,  to  ask  what  was  going  on. 
To  each  one  Mr.  Conwell  told  his  hope  and  mentioned 
the  gifts.  Nearly  every  one  added  something  without 
being  asked,  and  at  six  o'clock  when  Mr.  Conwell  hung 
up  the  pick  and  ax  at  the  end  of  his  day's  work  he  was 
promised  more  than  half  the  money  necessary  to  tear 
down  and  build  a  commodious  church.     But  Mr  Con- 


SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST.  1 27 

well  did  not  leave  the  work.  With  shovel,  or  hammer, 
or  saw,  or  paint  brush  he  worked  clay  by  day  all  that 
summer  along-side  the  workmen.  He  was  architect, 
mason,  carpenter,  painter  and  upholsterer,  and  he 
directed  every  detail,  from  the  cellar  to  the  gilded  vane, 
and  worked  early  and  late.  The  money  came  without 
asking  as  fast  as  needed.  The  young  people  who  be- 
gan to  flock  about  the  faith-worker  undertook  to  pur- 
chase a  large  bell,  quietly,  and  had  Mr.  Conwell's 
name  cast  on  the  exterior,  but  when  it  came  to  the 
difficult  task  of  hanging  it  in  the  tower  they  were 
obliged  to  call  on  Mr.  Conwell  to  come  and  superin- 
tend the  management  of  ropes  and  pulleys.  Then  the 
deep,  rich  tones  of  the  bell  rang  out  over  the  surprised 
old  town  the  triumphs  of  faith. 

"  Ring  out  the  old, 
Ring  in  the  new, 
Ring  out  the  false, 
Ring  in  the  true." 

The  church  was  filled  from  the  first  opening.  Such 
continual  crowds  on  church  services  were  never  seen 
before  in  Lexington.  Mr.  Conwell's  sermons  were 
profusely  illustrated,  simple,  and  showed  a  liberal  spirit 
toward  all  christian  denominations.  The  freedom  of 
every  man's  conscience  from  men's  dictation,  and  its 
dependence  on  God,  Christianity  a  character  and  not 
merely  a  profession,  were  prominently  insisted  upon. 


128  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

His  influence  was  felt  outside  his  church  circle,  and 
the  old  and  conservative  town  awoke  to  new  hope. 
Other  suburban  villages  were  striding  forward  into 
cities  and  leaving  the  old  Battle  field  of  the  Revolu- 
tion sleeping  under  its  majestic  elms.  Mr.  Conwell 
sounded  the  trumpet.  Progress,  enterprise,  life  fol- 
lowed his  eloquent  encouragement.  Strangers  were 
welcomed  to  the  town.  Its  unusual  beauty  became  a 
topic  of  conversation.  The  railroad  managers  heard  of 
its  attractiveness  and  opened  its  gates  with  better  ac- 
commodations for  travelers. 

The  governor  of  the  state  [Hon.  John  D.  Long] 
visited  the  place,  on  Mr.  Conwell's  invitation,  and  large 
undertakings  were  strongly  supported.  From  the  date 
of  Mr.  Conwell's  settlement  as  pastor,  to  the  present, 
the  town  has  made  astonishing  progress,  according  to 
the  testimony  of  a  great  portion  of  the  people.  He 
showed  them  what  could  be  done,  and  encouraged  them 
to  do  it.  He  practically  illustrated  the  theories  of  his 
great  lecture  "Acres  of  Diamonds." 

One  of  the  town  officers  writes :  "  Lexington  can 
never  forget  the  benefit  Mr.  Conwell  conferred  during 
his  stay  in  the  community."  It  is  well  known  that  the 
entire  community  had  Mr.  Conwell's  sincere  affection. 
He  evidently  loved  Lexington  next  to  the  "  cloud  cap- 
.ped  granite  hills  "  of  his  childhood's  home.  The  law 
business  was  abandoned,  and  his  office  in  Boston  finally 


SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST.  I2Q 

■closed.  His  whole  thought  was  concentrated  in  the 
purpose  to  do  good.  No  one  who  knew  him  intimately 
then  could  doubt  his  motives,  for  the  sacrifice  was  so 
great,  and  yet  so  unhesitatingly  made.  Buried  from  the 
world  in  one  way,  but  alive  to  it  in  a  better  way.  Large 
numbers  of  his  former  legal,  political  and  social  associ- 
ates called  his  action  fanaticism,  and  Wendell  Phillips 
told  him  and  several  friends,  one  Sunday  morning,  when 
on  his  way  to  church,  that  "  Olympus  had  gone  to  Del- 
phi, and  Jove  had  descended  to  be  an  interpreter  of  ora- 
cles/' We  have  received  from  Mr.  Conwell's  friends  of 
those  days  much  information  in  detail  which  can  not  be 
placed  in  this  condensed  history.  Some  of  them  over 
praise  him,  and  if  he  had  enemies  they  do  not  appear. 
That  such  a  man  would  meet  with  jealousies  and  even 
hatred  is  to  be  expected.  There  must  have  been  such 
things.  But  he  never  complained  of  it,  so  far  as  we 
can  learn. 

Then  followed  his  ordination  to  the  ministry.  He 
had  entered  the  Newton  Theological  Seminary,  and  had 
begun  taking  the  lectures  or  studies.  The  Council  of 
Churches  met  in  the  Baptist  Church  in  Lexington  some 
time  in  1879.  The  presiding  officer  was  the  Rev.  Alvah 
Hovey,  D.  D.  Among  the  councilors  was  the  life- 
long friend  of  Mr.  Conwell,  George  W.  Chipman  of 
Boston,  to  whose  kindness  we  have  often  heard  Mr. 
Conwell  refer  in  addresses.     The  only  objection  made 


130  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

to  Mr.  ConwelFs  ordination,  so  far  as  we  can  learn,  was 
made  by  a  good  old  pastor,  who  said,  "good  lawyers 
are  too  scarce  to  be  spoiled  by  making  ministers  of 
them." 

The  ordination  over,  and  the  Col.  Conwell  of  the 
past  sank  out  of  sight.  The  curtain  fell.  The  ambi- 
tions of  public  life  all  disappeared,  and  henceforth,  the 
homes  of  the  poor,  and  the  rooms  of  the  sick.  Hence- 
forth, counselor  to  the  dying,  comforter  of  the  mourn- 
ing, teacher  of  the  humble  Christ.  In  this  change  he 
was  seconded  by  his  wife,  who  made  no  objection  to  his 
giving  up  all  for  the  cause,  and  starting  out  with  nowhere 
to  lay  his  head.  Never  was  there  a  more  complete 
abandonment  of  things  earthly  for  the  Master's  sake. 
But  into  the  privacy  of  that  consecration  the  historian 
can  go  with  impunity  only  after  the  subject  of  this  biog- 
raphy shall  have  finished  his  work  on  earth. 

For  the  time  he  gave  up  his  popular  lectures,  but  an 
impatient  public  soon  forced  him  back  again.  He  went, 
however,  with  evident  reluctance.  Public  scenes  and 
strange  audiences  became  apparently  distasteful  to  him. 
The  pomp  and  parade  of  past  oratorical  victories  had 
no  attraction  for  him  more.  But  more  and  more  the 
pressure  increased,  until  he  again  appeared,  and  is  now 
heard  in  all  the  large  cities  of  the  country.  But,  con- 
sistent to  his  purpose,  he  gives  away  in  charity  all  and 
often  more  than  he  receives  from  the  Lecture  Bureaus 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  131 

and  Committees  who  pay  him.  He  is  one  of  America's 
self-made  men.  Such  as  have  been  the  boast  of  our 
nation,  and  peculiar  to  our  free  land. 

Mr.  Conwell's  removal  to  Philadelphia  in  188 1  and 
his  subsequent  success  is  so  fresh  in  the  public  mind 
that  it  would  be  useless  to  write  about  it  were  it  not 
for  the  sake  of  preserving  the  facts  for  future  records. 

It  was  no  smiling  outlook,  in  a  worldly  sense,  which 
took  him  to  Philadelphia.  The  little  church  which 
called  him  had  passed  through  a  broken  history.  It 
was  not  prosperous,  and  it  was  but  little  more  than  a 
mission.  But  it  was  trying  to  build  a  house  of  worship. 
It  was  not  in  a  rich  neighborhood.  It  was  poor.  We 
have  heard  that  only  twenty-seven  people  were  pres- 
ent when  the  Grace  Church  in  Philadelphia  voted  to 
call  him.  Few  believed  he  would  accept,  and  it  was 
thought  absurd  by  his  friends  in  Massachusetts.  The 
salary  offered  him,  in  view  of  the  difference  in  the  cost 
of  jiving  to  him,  was  considerably  less  than  the  amount 
offered  by  the  Lexington  church.  The  fact  that  it  was 
a  sacrifice,  and  perhaps  because  it  was  a  pain,  made 
the  change  appear  reasonable  to  him.  The  people  of 
the  Philadelphia  church  were  as  good  and  true  as  they 
seemed  poor  and  unknown.  It  was  a  field  requiring 
work.  There  was  no  hesitation  or  doubt.  He  ac- 
cepted the  place  as  soon  as  he  visited  it  and  saw  the 
opportunities  for  christian  labor. 


132  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

How  long  it  was  after  the  call  before  he  moved  to 
Philadelphia  we  do  not  know,  but  it  could  not  have 
been  long.  With  scarce  ah  acquaintance  in  the  great 
city,  and  many  of  the  church  which  called  him  not 
having  heard  his  name  to  notice  it  before  they  voted, 
he  left  all  his  old  friends  and  associations,  all  the 
scenes  of  his  happiest  days  and  plunged  into  the  seclu- 
sion of  a  mission  work  in  a  great  city.  The  beginning 
was  crude  and  inauspicious  according  to  the  reports, 
for  he  was  taken  sick,  and  the  church  troubled  about 
old  debts.  But  slowly,  yet  certainly  he  worked  on,  full 
of  faith,  as  he  had  been  in  Massachusetts.  The  poor 
soon  saw  a  friend. — The  young  soon  found  in  him  a 
companion.  — The  dying  sent  for  him  at  all  times  of 
night  and  day. — Funeral  processions  sought  him  until, 
as  mentioned  in  the  Watch?nan  of  Boston,  he  attended 
fifteen  funerals  in  a  single  week.  Almost  every  de- 
nomination sent  for  him.  It  was  the  victory  of  steady, 
quiet  work,  and  plain,  frank  preaching. 

The  steady  but  rapid  growth  of  his  church,  and  the 
development  of  so  many  charitable  interests  attracted 
the  attention  of  other  cities.  Many  inquiries  came  to 
him,  and  to  the  church  asking  for  a  statement  of  a  plan 
of  work.  Mr.  Conwell  seemed  to  be  unable  to  answer. 
"  It  is  a  case  of  evolution,"  is  about  all  the  reply  his 
correspondents  get.  We  have  many  descriptions  of 
the  services  and  the  preacher,  but  the  following  one, 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  133 

written  by  a   Methodist  minister  in  Albany,   is  quite 
accurate  and  comprehensive  : 

"  I  arrived  at  the  church  a  full  hour  before  the  even- 
ing service.  All  the  camp  chairs  were  already  taken. 
Also  all  extra  seats.  There  was  a  big  crowd  at  the 
front  door.  There  was  another  crowd  at  the  side  en- 
trance. I  did  not  know  how  to  get  a  ticket,  for  I  did 
not  know,  until  I  heard  it  in  the  jam,  that  I  must  have 
one.  Two  young  people,  who  like  many  got  tired  of 
waiting,  gave  me  their  tickets,  and  I  pushed  ahead.  I 
was  determined  to  see  how  the  thing  was  done.  I  was 
dreadfully  squeezed,  but  I  got  up  to  the  entrance  and 
stood  in  the  rear  of  the  pretty  church.  It  was  rather 
fancifully  frescoed.  But  it  is  an  architectural  gem.  It 
is  half  amphitheatrical  in  style.  It  is  longer  than  it  is 
wide,  and  the  choir  gallery  and  organ  are  over  the 
preacher's  head.  It  looks  underneath  like  an  old-fash- 
ioned sounding  board.  But  it  is  neat  and  pretty.  The 
carpet  and  cushions  are  bright  red.  The  windows  are 
full  of  mottoes  and  designs.  But  in  the  evening  un- 
der the  brilliant  lights  the  figures  could  not  be  made 
out.  There  was  an  unusual  spirit  of  homeness  about 
the  place,  such  as  I  never  felt  in  a  church  before.  I 
was  not  alone  in  feeling  it.  The  moment  I  stood  in 
the  audience  room,  an  agreeable  sense  of  rest  and 
pleasure  came  over  me.  Every  one  else  appeared  to 
feel  the  same.  There  was  none  of  the  stiff  restraint 
most  churches  have.  All  moved  about  and  greeted 
each  other  with  an  ease  that  was  pleasant  indeed.  I 
saw  some  people  abusing  the  liberty  of  the  place  by 
whispering,  even  during  the  sermon.  They  may  have 
been  strangers.     They  evidently  belonged  to  the  lower 


134  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

classes.  But  it  was  a  curiosity  to  notice  the  liberty 
every  one  took  at  pauses  in  the  service,  and  the  close 
attention  there  was  when  the  reading  or  speaking  be- 
gan. All  the  people  sung.  I  think  the  great  preacher 
has  a  strong  liking  for  the  old  hymns.  Of  course  I 
noticed  his  selection  of  Wesley's  favorite.  A  little 
boy  in  front  of  me  stood  up  on  the  pew  when  the  congre- 
gation rose.  He  piped  out  in  song  with  all  his  power. 
It  was  like  a  spring  canary.  It  was  difficult  to  tell 
whether  the  strong  voice  of  the  preacher,  or  the  chorus 
choir,  led  most  in  the  singing.  A  well-dressed  lady 
near  me  said  "  Good  evening,"  most  cheerfully,  as  a 
polite  usher  showed  me  into  the  pew.  They  say  that 
all  the  members  do  that.  It  made  me  feel  welcome. 
She  also  gave  me  a  hymn-book.  I  saw  others  being 
greeted  the  same.  How  it  did  help  me  praise  the  Lord! 
At  home  with  the  peop]e  of  God !  That  is  just  how  I 
felt.  I  was  greatly  disappointed  in  the  preacher. 
Agreeably  so,  after  all.  I  expected  to  see  an  old  man. 
He  did  not  look  over  thirty-five.  He  was  awkwardly 
tall.  I  had  expected  some  eccentric  and  sensational 
affair.  I  do  not  know  just  what.  But  I  had  been  told 
of  many  strange  things.  I  think  now  it  was  envious 
misrepresentation.  The  whole  service  was  as  simple 
as  simple  can  be.  And  it  was  surely  as  sincere  as  it 
was  simple.  The  reading  of  the  hymns  was  so  natural 
and  distinct  that  they  had  a  new  meaning  to  me.  The 
prayer  was  very  short,  and  offered  in  homely  language. 
In  it  he  paused  for  a  moment  of  silent  prayer,  and 
every  one  seemed  to  hold  their  breath  in  the  deepest 
real  reverence.  It  was  so  different  from  my  expecta- 
tions.    Then  the  collection.     It  was  not  an  asking  for 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  135 

money  at  all.  The  preacher  put  his  notice  of  it  the 
other  way  about.  He  said,  "  The  people  who  wish  to 
worship  God  by  giving  their  offering  into  the  trust 
of  the  church  could  place  it  in  the  baskets  which 
would  be  passed  to  any  who  wanted  to  give."  The  bas- 
ket that  went  down  to  the  altar  by  me  was  full  of  money 
and  envelopes.  Yet  no  one  was  asked  to  give  anything. 
It  was  all  voluntary,  and  really  an  offering  to  the  Lord. 
I  had  never  seen  such  a  way  of  doing  things  as  that  in 
church  collections.  I  do  not  know  as  the  minister  or 
church  require  it  so.  The  church  was  packed  in  every 
corner,  and  people  stood  in  the  aisles.  The  pulpit 
platform  was  crowded  so  that  the  preacher  had  nothing 
more  than  standing  room.  Some  people  sat  on  the 
floor,  and  a  crowd  of  interested  boys  leaned  against 
the  pulpit  platform.  When  the  preacher  arose  to  speak 
I  expected  something  strange.  It  did  not  seem  possi- 
ble that  such  a  crowd  could  gather  year  after  year  to 
listen  to  mere  plain  preaching.  For  these  are  degen- 
erate days.  The  minister  began  so  familiarly  and 
easily  in  introducing  his  text  that  he  was  half  through 
his  sermon  before  I  began  to  realize  that  he  was  actu- 
ally in  his  sermon.  It  was  the  plainest  thing  possible. 
I  had  often  heard  of  his  eloquence  and  poetic  imagi- 
nation. But  there  was  little  of  either,  if  we  think  of 
the  old  ideas.  There  was  close  continuous  attention. 
He  was  surely  in  earnest,  but  not  a  sign  of  oratorical 
display.  There  were  exciting  gestures  at  times,  and 
lofty  periods.  But  it  was  all  so  natural.  At  one  point 
the  whole  audience  burst  into  laughter  at  a  comic  turn 
in  an  illustration,  but  the  preacher  went  on  unconscious 
of  it.     It  detracted  nothing  from  the  solemn   theme. 


136  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

It  was  what  the  Chautauqua  Herald  last  year  called  a 
"  Conwellian  evening."  It  was  unlike  anything  I  ever 
saw  or  heard.  Yet  it  was  good  to  be  there.  The  ser- 
mon was  crowded  with  illustrations,  and  was  evidently 
unstudied.  They  say  he  never  takes  time  from  his 
many  cares  to  write  a  sermon.  That  one  was  surely 
spontaneous.  But  it  inspired  the  audience  to  better 
lives  and  a  higher  faith.  When  he  suddenly  stopped 
and  quickly  seized  a  hymn  book,  the  audience  drew  a 
long  sigh.  At  once  people  moved  about  again  and 
looked  at  each  other  and  smiled.  The  whole  congre- 
gation were  at  one  with  the  preacher.  There  was  a  low 
hum  of  whispering  voices.  But  all  was  attention  again 
when  the  hymn  was  read.  Then  the  glorious  song. 
One  of  the  finest  organists  in  the  country,  a  blind  gen- 
tleman by  the  name  of  Wood,  was  the  power  behind 
the  throne.  The  organ  did  praise  God.  Every  one  was 
carried  on  in  a  flood  of  praise.  It  was  rich.  The  ben- 
ediction was  a  continuation  of  the  sermon  and  a  clos- 
ing prayer,  all  in  a  single  sentence.  I  have  never 
heard  one  so  unique.  It  fastened  the  evening's  lesson. 
It  was  not  formal.  That  benediction  was  a  blessing 
indeed.  It  broke  every  rule  of  church  form.  It  was 
a  charming  close,  however.  No  one  else  but  Conwell 
could  do  it.  Probably  no  one  will  try.  Instantly  at 
the  close  of  the  service,  all  the  people  turned  to  each 
other  and  shook  hands.  They  entered  into  familiar 
conversation.  Many  spoke  to  me  and  invited  me  to 
come  again.  There  was  no  restraint.  All  was  home- 
like and  happy.  It  was  blessed  to  be  there.  Can  it 
be  done  in  our  churches?  I  doubt  it.  Human  beings 
are  so  apt  to  abuse  such  liberty.     Ill-bred  people  would 


SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST.  137 

lose  all  sense  of  reverence.  What  keeps  them  in  such 
a  balance  I  can  not  tell.  But  I  do  not  think  it  would 
be  safe  to  inaugurate  such  promiscuous  social  freedom 
in  many  churches.  Yet  it  is  undoubtedly  a  success 
there.  The  minister  engages  in  the  social  reunion  after 
the  meetings  as  one  of  the  members,  and  seems  to  lose 
no  respect  by  it.  There  is  some  statecraft  back  of  it, 
or  such  a  mass  of  people  would  go  too  far.  But  the 
visitor  sees  nothing  but  simple  plain  services  and  a 
genial,  happy  people." 

Another  writer  says :  "  Mr.  Conwell  is  one  of  the 
most  eloquent  men  in  our  country,  but  it  needs  the 
occasion  to  develop  his  power.  He  is  a  man  for  emer- 
gencies, but  he  has  a  mighty  reserve  force  which  it 
takes  but  a  minute  to  fire  up.  But  it  must  be  a  real 
occasion.  In  his  hands  sometimes  an  audience  is  a 
toy  he  can  toss  into  any  state  of  feeling,  but  he  don't 
waste  large  shot  on  a  small  target." 

Mr.  Conwell's  church  has  grown  without  any  special 
revival  by  continual  additions  week  by  week.  Summer 
and  winter  the  interest  is  the  same.  At  this  time,  in 
in  about  six  years,  he  has  baptized  over  twelve  hundred 
adult  persons.  Many  go  to  him  for  baptism  who  unite 
with  other  denominations,  because  of  the  crowd  at  his 
church.  He  is  liberal  in  his  views,  and  fraternal  with 
every  christian.     There  is  no  conceited  bigotry  there. 

It  was  after  years  of  inconvenient  crowding,  and 
after  the  city  authorities  insisted  on  special  precautions 


138  SCALING    THE    EAGLETS    NEST. 

to  lessen  the  danger  from  the  crowd,  that  the  Grace 
Church  decided  to  build  larger.  Mr.  Conwell  is  said 
to  have  been  at  one  time  in  favor  of  a  division  of  the 
church  into  three  separate  churches.  But  no  one  would 
go  out  of  his  division,  so  the  people,  nearly  all  being  of 
the  working  classes,  decided  to  build.  At  the  time 
these  pages  are  written  we  hear  that  the  new  temple,  to 
seat  4,200  in  the  pews,  and  capable  of  holding  6,000, 
is  fast  approaching  completion  on  Broad  street,  Phila- 
delphia. It  will  be  the  largest  Protestant  church  in  its 
seating  capacity  in  this  country.  We  believe  it  will  be 
no  less  crowded. 

In  a  French  paper  published  in  Philadelphia  we  find 
the  following  reference  to  the  work  and  man. 

"  For  eight  years  he  practiced  law  in  Boston,  pursu- 
ing industriously  in  all  leisure  hours  his  literary  studies, 
and  lecturing  evenings  in  places  far  away  as  well  as 
near.  Since  1870  he  has  written  ten  or  more  popular 
books,  which  have  had  a  very  extensive  sale.  In  1877 
he  left  the  profession  of  law,  with  a  lucrative  practice, 
and  entered  the  ministry,  being  ordained  at  Lexington, 
Mass.,  in  the  meantime  pushing  a  special  course  of 
study  at  the  Newton  Theological  Seminary.  The  church 
at  Lexington  was  nearly  extinct  when  he  first  went  there 
as  a  preacher,  having  only  about  a  score  of  members, 
and  hardly  as  many  for  a  congregation,  while  the  house 
of  worship  was  quite  dilapidated.  In  less  than  ten 
months  the  expenditures  for  building,  repairs  and  cur- 
rent expenses  amounted  to  $9,835.50,  and  of  that  sum 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  139 

only  $1,500  remained  unpaid  at  the  time  of  rededica- 
tion.  An  enlarged,  as  well  as  greatly  improved  house 
was  crowded  with  eager  hearers  of  the  new  preacher, 
and  there  was  soon  a  threefold  increase  of  members. 
In  1882  Mr.  Conwell  accepted  a  call  to  become  pastor 
of  Grace  Church  in  Philadelphia,  where  advancement 
in  many  respects  has  been  very  remarkable.  The 
church  edifice  has  been  overcrowded,  so  that  it  has  be- 
come inadequate  for  the  accommodation  of  those  de- 
sirous of  worshiping  there,  and  the  list  of  members  has 
increased  from  190  to  1,200,  that  church  being  now 
the  largest  numerically,  of  any  church  in  the  state  of 
Pennsylvania.  Plans  for  a  new  structure  have  been 
accepted,  the  dimensions  to  be  107  by  150  feet,  the 
fronts  on  Broad  and  Berks  streets  to  be  of  brownstone. 
There  will  be  four  entrances  on  the  former  street,  and 
three  on  the  latter.  The  auditorium  will  be  of  the 
amphitheater  style,  sloping  down  from  the  front  to  the 
rear  of  the  building,  where  the  pulpit  will  be  located. 
The  side  galleries  will  be  twenty-four  feet  deep,  and  a 
rear  gallery  sixty  feet  in  depth.  The  entire  seatjng 
capacity  is  4,200,  and  the  estimated  cost  of  the  house 
is  $200,000.  In  the  main  Sunday-school  room,  there 
is  to  be  accommodation  for  about  1,000  persons,  and  in 
the  room  for  the  infant  department  provision  will  be 
made  for  2,500  little  ones.  Apartments  for  social 
purposes  are  to  be  provided,  including  a  ladies'  parlor, 
a  gentlemen's  parlor,  a  large  entertainment  room  and 
a  dining-room  one  hundred  feet  long,  besides  a  kitchen 
and  smaller  rooms/' 

The  Temple  College,  for  the  free  education  of  work- 
ing men  and  working  women  in  Philadelphia  was  origi- 


140  SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

nated  by  Mr.  Conwell,  and  is  one  of  the  most  beneficial 
of  the  benevolent  institutions  of  our  free  land.  It  was 
founded  on  the  idea  that  there  are  many  ambitious  men 
and  women  among  the  working  classes  who  desire  a 
higher  education. 

In  the  first  catalogue,  issued  in  1887,  is  found  the 
following  statement  of  the  reasons  for  organization  of 
the  College.    These  reasons  are  written  by  Mr.  Conwell. 

"The  general  objects  of  the  college  are  to  open  to 
the  burdened  and  circumscribed  manual  laborer  the 
doors  through  which  he  may,  if  he  will,  reach  the  fields 
of  profitable  and  influential  professional  life. 

"  To  enable  the  working  man,  whose  labor  has  been 
largely  with  his  muscles,  to  double  his  skill  through  the 
helpful  suggestions  of  a  cultivated  mind. 

"To  provide  such  instruction  as  shall  be  best  adapted 
to  the  higher  education  of  those  who  are  compelled  to 
labor  at  their  trade  while  engaged  in  study,  or  who  de- 
sire while  studying  to  remain  under  the  influences  of 
their  home  or  church. 

"  To  awaken  in  the  character  of  young  laboring  men 
and  women  a  strong  and  determined  ambition  to  be 
useful  to  their  fellow-men. 

"  To  cultivate  such  a  taste  for  the  higher  and  most 
useful  branches  of  learning  as  shall  compel  the  students 
after  they  have  left  the  college  to  continue  to  pursue 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE  S    NEST.  141 

the  best  and  most  practical  branches  of  learning  to  the 
very  highest  walks  of  mental  and  scientific  achievement." 

At  first  there  were  but  a  few  students.  No  one  but 
Mr.  Conwell  believed  in  its  success.  Even  his  loyal 
church  had  no  faith  in  it.  Some  of  the  Baptist  denom- 
ination ridiculed  it,  and  prominent  men  opposed  it. 
Some  who  were  interested  in  other  institutions,  were 
openly  hostile.  All  who  thought  that  the  laboring  man 
should  be  kept  in  his  half-bondage  tried  to  hinder  the 
scheme. 

He  was  alone.  Being  himself  a  self-made  American, 
he  believed  many  others  could  do  as  he  had  done.  He 
proposed  only  to  assist  the  young,  by  showing  them 
how  to  obtain  their  own  education  by  their  own  efforts. 

Its  success  was  surprising.  He  began  with  one 
teacher  and  no  organization.  But  in  two  years  he  had 
eleven  hundred  students  and  a  completely  equipped 
corporation  under  the  laws  of  the  state.  Rich  men  dis- 
countenanced it,  and  the  viciously  proud  despised  the 
idea  of  bridging  over  the  chasm  between  the  rich  and 
the  poor.  But  the  working  men  themselves  took  it  up. 
On  Mr.  Conwell's  birthday,  February  15th  each  year, 
they  give  a  day's  work  toward  the  support  of  the  col- 
lege, and  employ  about  twenty  professors. 

The  college  admits  free  only  those  who  are  actually 
at  work,  and  is  obliged  to  refuse  great  numbers  for  lack 


142  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

of  room.  The  classes  made  most  marvelous  progress. 
Many  young  men  and  women  outstrip  their  richer 
cousins  who  spend  their  whole  time  at  college.  The 
Greek,  Latin  and  highest  branches  of  mathematics  and 
philosophy  classes  would  be  an  ornament  to  any  of  our 
oldest  colleges.  The  graduates  must  wield  a  powerful 
influence  in  our  nation.  It  is  a  severe  test  of  their 
ability  and  perseverance,  which  shows  unusual  mental 
and  physical  power.  They  must  ultimately  be  among 
America's  greatest  men.  Such  self-taught  men,  getting 
education  under  great  difficulties  have  been  our  greatest 
pride.  These  men  have  the  strength  to  bear  great 
burdens.  Mr.  Conwell  must  have  seen  it,  or  he  must 
have  builded  better,  than  he  knew.  No  one  but  Mr. 
Conwell  had  faith  to  think  that  when  he  purchased  for 
the  college,  with  the  payment  of  a  few  hundred  dollars, 
buildings,  promising  to  pay  $50,000,  that  they  could 
ever  be  paid  for.  But  steadily  and  strongly  grew  the 
favor  of  good  men  and  women.  The  poor  took  up  the 
matter.  Little  sacrifices  multiplied  the  fund  for  pur- 
chasing, until  now  no  one  questions  the  success  of 
the  college,  or  the  final  payment  of  all  its  obligations. 
Excellent  professors  of  long  experience  offered  their 
services  at  first  for  a  nominal  price,  and  the  faculty  be- 
came one  of  the  most  efficient  in  the  country.  The 
students  study  at  home,  or  at  their  work,  and  recite 
evenings,  or  by  day,  as  is  most  convenient. 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  143 

Many  young  men  from  other  parts  of  the  country  se- 
cure work  in  Philadelphia,  and  so  get  the  opportunity 
for  the  instruction  they  need.  Many  are  studying  for 
the  ministry,  some  for  the  law,  medicine,  science,  engi- 
neering, literature,  banking  and  the  more  skilled  work 
in  mechanics  and  business.  In  Temple  College  they 
obtain  the  collegiate  foundation  for  those  professions, 
and  finish  their  professional  education  at  other  institu- 
tions. 

To  what  the  college  will  grow,  no  one  can  foresee,  or 
what  Mr.  Conwell's  plans  are  for  any  future  extension, 
we  cannot  say. 

What  a  busy  life  he  leads.  Students  calling,  and 
writing  for  information  continually;  night  and  day  he 
is  in  demand,  visiting  the  dying  and  burying  the  dead ; 
troubled  on  every  side  by  unnumbered  calls  to  lecture, 
to  deliver  special  addresses  or  sermons  for  churches, 
charities,  missions  and  different  societies ;  writing  books, 
preaching  regularly  to  crowds,  containing  visiting  schol- 
ars from  all  parts  of  the  country;  examining  almost  daily 
candidates  for  admission  to  his  church,  listening  to 
countless  applications  from  the  poor  for  aid ;  watching 
over  his  large  church  membership  and  knowing  the  life 
and  whereabouts  of  each  one ;  maintaining  a  lengthy 
correspondence  with  distinguished  men  in  Europe, 
teaching  several  classes  in  the  college,  making  wills  for 


T44  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

friends,  giving  business  and  legal  advice  to  his  member- 
ship ;  leading  meetings  almost  daily,  and  troubled  on 
every  side  with  book  agents,,unbalanced  philanthropists, 
applicants  for  letters  of  recommendation,  and  beggars 
of  all  sorts.  He  still  labors  on  easily  and  good 
naturedly. 

Poor  in  the  goods  of  this  world,  having  no  pride  in 
such  things,  he  yet  seems  to  be  happy  and  contented. 
That,  after  all,  is  worth  more  than  money.  Many  a  rich 
man  is  poorer  in  its  true  sense,  than  is  that  busy  pastor. 
"  Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  good.  So  shall  thy  days  be 
long  in  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God  giveth  thee." 


russell's 
Letters  from  the  Battle-fields.* 


From  the  Boston  Traveller. 


1869. 

Port  Hudson — Roma?itic  incidents — Soldier  dead. 

ALLIGATORS  chaw  a  feller  all  up/'  said  a  little 
darkey  we  engaged  to  carry  our  baggage  from 
the  boat  landing  at  Port  Hudson  to  the  miser- 
able shanty  called  by  its  proprietor,  a  hotel.  "Yes, 
Sam,  but  it's  a  sleepy  time  now  for  alligators,  isn't  it  ?  " 
"  Lor  bress  you,  massa,  you  mus  have  cum  f  rum  de 
Norf,  shuah,  to  tink  de  alligators  sleeps.  Der  yer  see 
dat  ar  great  whilum  pool  whar  de  riber  is  swinging 
them  trees  and  logs  and  sich  around  and  around.  Wall 
de  federal  sojers  used  to  go  in  dar  to  wash  um,  and  de 
black  alligators  first  boosted  dem  rite  under  water  with- 


*  These  letters  are  selected  from  the  long  series  which  Mr.  Conwell 
wrote  for  the  Traveller  of  Boston,  and  are  printed  in  this  volume  with  his 
consent  upon  the  expressed  understanding  with  him  that  the  volume  is 
not  to  be  published  for  general  sale.— Ed. 


146  SCALING   THE   EAGLE'S    NEST. 

outwinkin  at  em.  But  dose  sojers  didn't  know  how  to 
manage  urn." 

"  How  would  you  manage  one,  Sam  ? "  asked  we. 
"Why,  I  do  jist  as  de  cullud  folks  do  down  on  old 
Wetherby's  plantation.  Ide  cotch  him  by  de  tip  of  his 
tail  and  jist  make  him  scull  me  ashore.  Der  ye  see  ? 
When  a  pussun  of  color  gets  an  alligator  arter  him  he 
jist  cotches  him  by  de  tail,  turns  it  kind  a  sidewise,  so, 
and  de  ole  feller  gits  mighty  mad  dough,  but  he  can't 
bite  de  feller  what  is  steerin'  him.  An'  he  has  to  git, 
in  what  direction  the  steerer  says.  White  folks  cum 
down  here  fum  up  Norf,  and  de  alligators  first  eat  urn 
widout  stoppin'.  Put  a  pussun  of  culler,  he  just  takes 
de  alligator  by  de  tail  and  tells  um,  Mr.  Alligator,  dis 
nigger  wants  ter  cross  der  ribber.  Lend  me  yer  tail, 
and  away  goes  alligator  and  pussun  ob  culler  ober  to 
de  plantation.  If  de  alligator  spressed  his  pinion,  I 
spec  hede  say  de  pussun  ob  culler  was  takin  liberties 
wid  a  tail  de  Lord  made  spressly  for  de  alligator.  But 
de  alligators  were  made  afore  steamboats  no  how." 

We  rather  doubted  the  feasibility  of  making  alligators 
perform  ferry-boat  duty,  but  as  we  soon  after  reached 
the  top  of  the  sandy  bluff,  upon  which  our  hotel  was 
situated  the  alligator  question  was  dropped.  After  de- 
positing our  baggage  with  a  landlady  who  was  as  broad 
as  she  was  tall,  and  securing  a  couch  on  the  third  floor 
of  the  one-story  house,  we  started  out  to  look  at 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  147 

THE    TOWN. 

There  were  about  a  dozen  buildings,  two  of  which 
were  grocery  stores.  Between  and  around  these  one- 
story  slab  houses  ran  the  ditches  and  lines  of  earth- 
works thrown  up  during  the  war.  Some  little  patches 
of  ground  between  the  houses  were  under  cultivation, 
but  the  soil  appeared  too  barren  and  sandy  to  make  a 
fit  return  for  the  labor  spent  upon  it.  In  several  of  the 
ruined  ditches,  which  had  not  been  filled  since  the  war, 
we  saw  squads  of  ragged,  dirty  children  making  mud- 
pies  and  throwing  stones  at  the  ducks.  We  remarked 
the  contrast  between  this  innocent  scene  and  that  when 
Banks  and  his  men  lay  out  in  the  edge  of  the  woods 
yonder.  Several  men  were  sitting  on  the  grocery  steps, 
talking  about  the  crops  ;  and  we  ventured  to  inquire,  as 
we  approached  them,  for  direction  to  the  national 
cemetery. 

"  We  don't  know  nothin'  about  yer  national  ceme- 
teries," said  a  long,  lank, 

DIRTY    SOUTHERNER, 

scowling,  and  making  an  impatient  gesture  with  his 
hand. 

"I  supposed  that  it  was  near  this  place,"  said  we, 
eyeing  another  member  of  the  party,  who  appeared  a 
little  better  natured ;  but,  before  he  could  answer,  the 
tall  specimen  of  Southern  chivalry  arose  to  his  feet  in  a 


148  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

fury,  and  demanded  of  us  why  we  dared  to  intrude 
upon  a  private  party,  and  if  we  did  not  know  that  it  was 
dangerous  to  tread  on  a  Southern  man's  heels. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  insult  any  person  by  inquiring  for 
the  grave  of  a  friend, "  said  we,  fast  losing  our  temper. 

"  You  are  a Yankee,  and  that  is  the  worst  thing  I 

can  say  about  you  !  and  your  room  is  better  than  your 
company,"  said  another  man  taking  the  first  speaker's 
part.  "  Is  there  not  in  this  company  a  man  who  is 
gentleman  enough  to  tell  me  where  the  soldiers'  ceme- 
tery is  ?  "  again  asked  we,  fully  determined  to  stay  until 
we  received  a  civil  answer.  No  one  replied.  Feeling 
that  this  was  a  free  country,  and  that  we  had  as  much 
right  to  the  grocery  steps  as  they,  we  sat  down  beside 
them,  resolved  to  imitate  General  Banks's  example, 
who,  when  he  found  a  direct  assault  to  be  useless,  pro- 
ceeded deliberately  to  a  regular  siege.  While  we  took 
up  a  piece  of  a  barrel  hoop  and  began  to  whittle, 
Yankee  fashion,  they  tried  to  go  on  with  their  conversa- 
tion about  the  crops,  the  flood,  old  Ogleby's.mare,  and 
the  last  fox  hunt.  But  they  were  evidently  uneasy,  and 
their  remarks  were  unconnected,  and,  at  times,  unintel- 
ligible to  themselves.  At  last  the  conversation  ceased 
altogether.  Some  looked  at  the  ground,  others  eyed  us 
sharply,  while  our  long-haired  enemy  was  trying  to 
whistle  "  Dixie,"  and  we  endeavored  to  keep  time  with 
our  jackknife.     At  last,  all  out  of  patience,  the  com- 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 


49 


pany  arose  to  their  feet  and  gathered  around  in  front  of 
us,  while  one  demanded  if  we  wanted  to  "get  into  a 

d d  big  fight !  "     We  merely  remarked  that  we  had 

asked  all  the  questions  we  should,  and  we  were  now 
willing  that  they  should  ask  some  themselves,  and  kept 
on  whittling.  "  See  here,  stranger,  I'll  bust  yer  head  if 
yer  don't  leave,"  shouted  a  short  man,  pushing  the 
others  aside,  and  squaring  off  before  us.  We  whittled 
on.  "Ain't  yer  going  to  leave  ?  "  shouted  he,  bringing 
his  arms  akimbo.  We  whittled  as  before.  "  You  are  a 
coward,  a  thief,  a  liar,  a  Yankee,"  yelled  he,  leaning 
over  to  spit  the  words  at  us  like  a  copperhead  (snake). 
We  whittled  faster.  "  You  darsent  fight,"  shouted  half 
a  dozen,  who  loved  to  see  a  fight,  but  acted  as  though 
they  should  not  like  to  be  in  one  themselves. 

"  Aint  yer  going  to  fight?  "  said  our  pugilistic  enemy. 
We  only  whittled.  "  Come  fellers,  let's  don't  fuss  any 
more  with  him.  He's  a  fool.  Let's  let  him  go.  He's 
a  harmless  Yankee,  anyhow/'  said  one  starting  across 
the  street  to  the  other  grocery.  One  after  another  they 
dispersed,  leaving  us  to  finish  the  piece  of  hoop  alone. 
Soon  after 

THE    STOREKEEPER 

came  out  in  a  very  obliging  way,  showed  us  where  the 
cemetery  was  situated,  and  hoped  we  wouldn't  mind 
those  red-hot  rebels,  as  the  country  was  cursed  by  them, 
and  it  was  not  safe  for  a  man  to  let  his  Union  sentiments 


150  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

be  known.  The  whole  company  rushed  out  of  the  other 
grocery  as  we  clambered  over  the  ruins  of  an  old  fort, 
on  our  way  to  the  cemetery,  and  rather  impolitely  wished 

every  Yankee  was  "  buried  in  the  d d  old  graveyard 

out  in  the  woods." 

THE    NATIONAL   CEMETERY 

is  situated  near  the  edge  of  the  woods,  about  a  mile 
from  the  river,  and  on  the  very  spot  where  fell  so  many 
brave  soldiers  on  the  14th  of  June,  1863.  But  its  con- 
dition does  not  reflect  much  credit  upon  the  United 
States  government,  and  gives  cause  for  sneers  and  rid- 
icule to  those  rebels  living  near,  and  they  do  not  fail  to 
take  advantage  of  it.  There  are  no  walks,  no  flowers, 
and  but  an  excuse  for  a  flag.  Many  of  the  head-boards 
have  no  inscriptions  on  them,  while  many  graves  of 
known  men  have  not  even  a  head-board  to  mark  the 
spot.  Nothing  can  stir  our  blood  so  soon  to  a  fever 
heat  as  the  neglect  of  the  government  to  protect  and 
care  for  the  graves  of  its  defenders.  Especially  where 
they  lie  in  a  strange  land,  surrounded  by  a  people  that 
hate  them  and  the  principles  for  which  they  fought. 
We  like  whenever  we  enter  a  cemetery,  filled  with  brave 
soldiers,  to  feel  like  repeating  those  thrilling  words — 

"  On  fame's  eternal  camping-ground 
Their  silent  tents  are  spread, 
And  glory  guards  with  solemn  round 
The  bivouac  of  the  dead." 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 


THE    FIELDS 


51 


about  the  cemetery  are  cultivated  in  a  way  that  sur- 
prises the  stranger,  and  the  first  question  we  asked  of 
the  crippled  old  darkey  at  the  cemetery  was  in  regard 
to  the  ownership  of  the  land.  The  land  for  half  a  mile 
around  was  covered  with  fallen  timber  during  the  war, 
which  was  cut  clown  by  the  rebels  to  make  an  abattis 
for  their  breastworks.  But  it  is  now  cleared  and 
ploughed  under  the  hand  of  free  black  labor,  and  crops 
of  cotton  and  king  corn  now  sway  on  the  plain  like  the 
waves  of  a  lake.     The  heavy 

BREASTWORKS, 

behind  which  the  rebels  stood  when  they  were  able  to 
repulse  the  brave  attacks  of  our  troops,  are  still  stand- 
ing, and  serve  to  divide  the  plantation  into  sections  of 
about  the  right  size  to  let  to  individuals  on  shares. 
They  are,  however,  gradually  sliding  down  before  the 
hoe  and  plough,  and  in  five  or  six  years  at  most,  will  be 
entirely  obliterated. 


SECOND  LETTER. 

Newbern,  N.  C,  April  15,  1869. 
Many  New  England  soldiers  who  have  spent  a  por- 
tion of  their  war  life  upon  the  shores  of  North  Carolina, 
have  wished  that  they  were  able  to  make  a  visit  to  their 


152  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

old  camping-grounds,  and  look  again  upon  the  scenes 
so  full  of  thrilling  interest.  But  the  transition  from 
war  to  a  state  of  peace  has  made  such  a  wonderful 
change  in  the  appearance  of  the  fields  and  villages, 
that  the  returning  soldier  can  hardly  realize  that  they 
are  the  same.  Leaving  Virginia,  now  for  a  short  time, 
to  which,  however,  we  shall  shortly  return,  we  will 
wander  along  the  Carolina  coast,  and  note  for  our  com- 
rades the  changes  that  have  been  wrought  since  they 
came  hereto  "fire  the  Southern  heart." 

NEWBERN, 

in  war  surrounded  by  tented  camps,  long  lines  of  earth- 
works and  forts,  with  a  fleet  of  gun-boats  floating  in 
the  Neuse  River,  was  a  far  different  city  from  the  New- 
bern  of  to-day.  It  seems  to  have  become  reduced  in 
size,  until  it  is  but  a  miniature  of  the  city  we  knew  five 
years  ago.  Then  there  was  a  constant  tramp  of  sol- 
diers along  the  side-walks,  sentries  on  every  corner, 
and  jolly  crowds  in  every  tradesman's  door.  Now  bus- 
iness is  dull  and  the  streets  seem  almost  deserted, 
while  on  the  corners,  in  place  of  the  sentries  that  used 
then  to  come  to  a  "  shoulder,''  now  lie  lazy,  ragged  ne- 
groes, who  have  just  life  enough  to  say  as  you  pass, 
"  Please  mister,  give  me  a  cent."  The  wharves  that 
once  creaked  under  the  loads  of  ordnance  and  quarter- 
masters' stores,  where  happy-faced  sutlers  and  town 


SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST.  1 53 

merchants  received  their  goods,  and  soldiers  their 
boxes  from  home,  are  now  occupied  by  colored  dealers 
in  fish  and  oysters.  The  substantial  army  wagons  and 
ambulances,  that  were  constantly  moving  through  the 
streets,  are  replaced  by  a  few  two-wheeled  carts,  drawn 
by  lame  mules  or  "  dwarfed  cows/'  appearing  as  little 
like  the  noble  beasts  we  formerly  saw  here  as  their 
drivers  do  like  healthy  or  prosperous  men.  The  sight 
of  the  taveler  is  refreshed,  however,  at  long  intervals, 
by  the  appearance  of  a  horse  and  buggy  belonging  to 
some  aristocratic  North  Carolinian  or  enterprising 
Yankee.  The  hospital  buildings,  so  sadly  familiar  to 
many  of  our  soldiers,  have  lost  that  appearance  of  quiet 
and  gloom  they  had  during  the  war,  and  now,  as  school- 
houses  or  dwellings,  look  cheerful  and  inviting.  Whole 
blocks  of  buildings  have  been  destroyed  by  fire,  and  in 
many  places  new  structures,  of  a  different  style  have 
taken  the  places  of  old  ones.  Without  the  city  the 
change  is  greater  than  within.  The  broad  fields,  once 
so  white  with  tents,  and  the  parade  grounds,  once  cov- 
ered with  drilling  battalions,  are  now  cultivated  by  the 
plough  or  are  left  to  grow  to  brush  or  barren  weeds. 
On  the  spot  where  were  encamped  the  46th  and  8th 
Mass.  in  '63  the  national  cemetery  now  stands,  a  sad 
memento  of  battles  and  disease.  Fort  Totten,  con- 
sidered in  the  confident  days  of  '64  to  be  one  of  the 
strongest   fortifications   on    the    coast,    has    crumbled 


154  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

away,  and  the  huge  piles  of  sand,  which  remain  of  the 
lofty  traverse,  remind  us  forcibly  of  some  ruined  feudal 
castle,  that  has  been  crumbling  for  five  hundred  years. 
The  line  of  earthworks  reaching  from  fort  Totten  to 
the  rivers  on  either  hand,  has,  in  many  places,  entirely 
disappeared,  while  in  other  localities  portions  of  it  re- 
main entire.  The  hand  of  nature  and  of  man  is  fast 
destroying  the  landmarks  of  the  war,  and  in  a  few  years 
more  not  a  mound  or  ditch  will  be  left  to  tell  of  the 
exhausting  toils  and  weary  sieges  endured  by  the  sol- 
diers of  New  England.  Yet,  with  all  the  change,  there 
are  many  familiar  localities  and  buildings  in  the  city 
which  recall  the  experiences  of  camp  life ;  the  large  white 
house  in  which  General  Foster  had  his  head-quarters ; 
the  long  flag  staff  on  an  adjacent  corner;  the  medical 
dispensary — the  old  railroad  depot,  the  now  dilapidated 
and  dangerous  bridge  across  the  Trent ;  the  low  house 
occupied  by  Chaplain  James  and  his  corps  of  teachers ; 
the  numerous  negro  huts  beside  the  Trent,  where  were 
encamped  for  a  long  time  the  27th,  the  23d  and  the 
2 1  st  Mass.,  and  the  9th  New  Jersey  ;  the  remnants  of 
barracks  near  the  Neuse  once  occupied  by  the  23d,  42dr 
17th,  43d  and  44th  Massachusetts;  the  steamer  Ellen 
S.  Terry,  on  which  usually  came  those  welcome  letters 
from  home,  and  which  still  plies  between  this  port  and 
New  York  ;  the  old  post-office  building,  on  the  corner, 
still  used  for  that  purpose  ;  together  with  the  many  offi- 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 


55 


ces,  guard  quarters  and  store  houses,  tend,  in  a  measure, 
to  bring  again  a  realizing  sense  of  army  life.     But  the 

CEMETERY, 

with  its  array  of  white  head-boards,  bearing  the  names 
of  many  an  old  friend  and  fellow  laborer,  is  the  surest 
and  saddest  prompter  of  the  memory  which  the  place 
affords.  Drummer  boys  who  beat  the  reveille  in  time 
of  quiet,  and  the  long  roll  in  the  hour  of  danger,  and  who 
went  safely  through  the  Virginia  campaigns,  were  con- 
quered by  the  yellow  fever  here.  A  sergeant,  honored 
for  his  integrity  and  praised  for  his  bravery  at  Plymouth 
and  Roanoke,  lies  here  almost  forgotten.  Private  sol- 
diers,— our  school-mates  and  old  acquaintances, — fallen 
in  battle  or  sickness,  are  placed  here,  as  their  head-boards 
tell  us,  until  the  Resurrection  Day.  At  one  end  of  the 
row  are  two  graves,  of  which  uncommon  care  has  been 
taken,  and  to  which  our  attention  was  called  by  the 
keeper.    They  bear  the  following  touching  inscriptions  : 

No.    1744- 

21ST  Massachusetts. 
Betrothed  to  C.  E.  C. 

(The  name  is  not  given  on  the  board,  but  we  learned 

that  it  was  a  member  of  Company  E,  of  this  regiment). 

The  other  reads  as  follows  : 

Miss  Carrie  E.  Cutter, 

Betrothed   to    No.    1744. 

buried  at  his  side  at  her  own  request. 


156  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

Probably  many  of  the  old  21st  will  know  the  circum- 
stances and  tell  the  story  of  these  two  lovers ;  but  the 
inscription  on  their  head-boards  is  all  we  know  of  their 
life  of  love  or  devotion  at  death.  But  other  incidents 
we  do  know  that  are  full  of  interest  to  us,  and  we 
doubt  not  to  your  readers,  which  are  recalled  as  we 
stand  by  the  flagstaff  and  read  over  the  familiar  names 
on  the  white  boards  before  us:  "Follijambe,  10th 
Conn."  Ah,  yes !  that  is  the  very  grave  they  told  us 
about,  and  this  is  the 

SAD    STORY    OF    LOVE 

they  told  us.  "The  soldier  lying  in  that  grave  was 
reared  by  kind  parents  in  Hartford,  and  at  the  age  of 
twenty — an  honest,  intelligent  young  man — he  went  to 
New  Haven.  There  he  became  acquainted  with  a 
young  lady  by  the  name  of  Fenin,  who  came  to  visit 
her  brother,  then  in  college.  They  became  engaged  to 
be  married,  and  all  was  sunshine  in  the  path  of  life. 
But  the  rebellion  came,  and  she  returned  to  her  home 
in  Harlem,  to  wait  for  his  return  from  the  war,  to  which 
he  was  determined  to  go.  Two  years  of  correspondence 
and  two  furloughs  cemented  their  affection,  until  they 
felt  that  no  earthly  obstacle  could  come  between  them 
and  the  sweet  joys  of  life  in  store  for  them. 

But  to  the  loving  heart  in  Harlem  there  one  day 
came  a  report  that  her  betrothed  was  killed.     In  wild 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  157 

suspense  she  waited  for  his  letters,  but  none  came. 
Her  father  wrote  to  the  Colonel  and  to  the  Chaplain. 
They  could  only  say  that  he  was  '  missing.'  With  no 
thought  of  money,  or  trouble,  or  care,  the  old  gray- 
headed  father  whose  daughter,  since  the  death  of  his 
son,  was  his  all,  searched  unceasingly  for  some  clue  to 
the  missing  one ;  even  venturing  within  the  lines  of  the 
enemy.  She,  with  that  sublime  fortitude  which  only  a 
woman  can  command  when  trouble  comes,  and  with 
that  devotion  which  makes  a  woman's  love  so  pure  and 
sacred,  shared  the  dangers  and  fatigue  of  a  two  years' 
search,  knowing  nothing,  caring  for  nothing,  unless  it 
concerned  her  lover.  Finally  his  grave  was  found  in 
the  woods  near  where  the  ioth  once  formed  a  skirmish 
line,  and  a  little  head-board  bearing  his  name  carved  in 
crooked  lines  with  a  pen-knife,  marked  his  resting 
place.  Word  was  sent  to  the  mourners,  and  the  next 
conveyance  brought  them  to  the  spot.  For  a  while  the 
daughter  sat  in  the  carriage,  and  would  not  get  out ; 
not  daring  to  trust  herself  within  view  of  the  spot  where 
lay  the  dearest  form  she  ever  knew.  ;  Come,  Nellie,' 
said  the  old  man,  and  with  a  forced  calmness  he  as- 
sisted his  daughter  from  the  carriage.  Going  to  the 
grave  she  walked  around  it — read  slowly  the  inscrip- 
tion— and  then  folding  her  hands  across  her  breast,  she 
exclaimed,  'Oh,  Charley,'  and  fell  upon  the  grave  a 
corpse.     The  old  man  left  alone  in  this  world  of  grief 


T58  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

was  led  away  by  the  driver,  a  maniac.  To-day  in  the 
asylum  at  New  York,  he  is  constantly  inquiring  in  his 
delirium,  why  his  daughter  is  not  married.  Sad,  sad 
tale.  Almost  too  tragic  to  believe,  yet  hundreds  attest 
its  truth."  Alas  !  how  many  such  incidents  there  have 
been  since  the  war,  that  will  never  be  recorded. 


THIRD  LETTER. 

"  O  now  the  tide  of  battle 

Is  turned  to  seas  of  blood, 
When  case  and  grapeshot  rattle 

Among  the  multitude ; 
And  fates,  led  on  by  furies, 

Destroy  the  flying  host, 
And  chaos,  mated  with  despair, 

Makes  all  the  lost  more  lost." 

After  visiting  two  score  of  battle-fields,  and  listening 
to  the  thousand  and  one  tales  of  blood  and  terror  which 
the  enthusiastic  eulogists  of  each  field  have  told  us 
about  life,  valor,  blood,  death,  and  bleaching  bones, 
we  had  become  in  a  great  measure  callous  to  the  senti- 
ment and  enthusiasm  which  our  first  field  excited.     But 

GETTYSBURG, 

with  its  shot-ploughed  fields  and  bullet-battered  rocks, 
— with  its  broken  tree-tops  and  shattered  fences,  beside 
which  the  low  mound  of  the  soldier  still  blooms  and 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  159 

fades, — calls  up  all  the  retiring  host  of  patriotic  emo- 
tions which  deeds  of  bravery,  martyrs'  death  beds,  with 
final  victory,  can  awaken.  O  !  ye  cold,  calculating 
financiers,  that  would  sit  down  to  count  the  cost  and 
numbers,  that  can  coolly  say,  there  was  a  battery,  here 
a  charge  was  made,  and  here  a  few  soldiers  died,  then 
go  on,  and  straightway  forgetting  the  spot,  come  not  to 
Gettysburg.  If  you  have  no  heart  to  swell  at  fearless 
patriotism,  no  soul  for  praise,  no  mind  for  war,  no  tears 
to  shed,  O  !  keep  your  unholy  feet  from  the  sacred  field 
of  Gettysburg.     Perhaps  the 

SHADES    OF    DEPARTED    WARRIORS 

do  not  come  back  to  fight  over  again  their  battles,  as 
they  told  us  they  did  at  South  Mountain.  Perhaps 
there  are  in  this  day  no  ghosts  of  men  nor  aparitions  of 
battling  hosts,  in  earth  or  cloud  to  warn  us  of  battle  to 
come  or  tell  of  conflicts  past.  Doubtless  the  dead  do 
sleep  as  quietly  as  they  would  in  a  churchyard.  But 
to  us,  in  the  gathering  twilight  of  that  mellow  evening 
the  spirits  of  the  long  since  dead — the  faces  years  ago 
known  and  since  forgotten ;  the  spectre  forms  of  the 
endeared  soldiers,  clad  in  Union  blue,  and  girt  about 
with  national  armor — came  from  the  woods,  meadows, 
hills  and  fields  at  the  involuntary  call  of  our  imagina- 
tion as  they  came  from  the  gory  fields  of  Bannockburn 
and  Culloden,  at  the  call  of  the  Highland  Seer.     The 


i6o 

long,  dull  lines  of  infantry  stretching  from  hill  to  hill, 
— the  bright  armed  cavalry  in  the  fields  at  the  South, 
the  gloomy,  ominous  row  of  light  artillery,  all  came 
again  and  took  their  stations  in  the  fields,  on  the  hills, 
and  among  the  trees.  At  Wolf's  Hill,  the  dusty,  be- 
grimed faces  of  Slocum's  men  seemed  to  lie  as  they  lay 
that  3d  of  July,  hugging  the  earth  and  firing  at  intervals 
into  the  woods  before  them.  At  Culp's  Hill,  Wads- 
worth,  Geary,  Williams,  and  Slocum  again  drew  up 
their  lines  and  again  ordered  an  advance.  How  the 
woods  rang !  The  yells,  the  rattle,  the  boom-boom,  the 
fiery  flash,  the  smoky  cloud,  the  crash  of  the  bullet-cut 
timber,  the  bugle  calls  and  commanding  shouts,  came 
from  the  thick  grove  as  it  came  that  fatal  day.  Be- 
smeared and  bloody  faces,  torn  and  dirty  uniforms, 
broken  bayonets  and  bare  heads  flitted  about  from 
tree  to  tree,  getting  a  shot  at  the  foe.  The  dark  ranks 
of  the  line  of  battle,  some  throwing  up  dirt  and  logs  to 
form  a  low  breastwork,  while  the  others  filled  the  woods 
with  searing  lead,  worked  as  diligently  in  the  twilight 
as  they  did  the  night  of  July  2d,  '64.  Then  to  Ceme- 
tery Hill  we  went.     But  the 

PATRIOT   ARMY 

was  there  before  us.  Howard  rode  the  same  sweat- 
streaming  horse ;  the  artillery  were  working  the  same 
dark  cannon ;  the  infantry  lay  behind  the  same  stone 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  l6l 

wall ;  while  down  in  the  valley  were  the  shifting  files 
of  Early's  iron-gray  division.  How  they  yelled  and 
shrieked  as  they  came  charging  across  the  valley,  up 
the  hillside  and  over  the  walls  !  "  How  the  Dutch 
scatter ! "  again  repeated  Doubleday,  as  the  rebeJ  line 
with  unbroken  front  came  upon  the  Pennsylvanians, 
drive  them  from  the  wall,  and  rush  upon  the  gunners. 

HAND    TO    HAND, 

gun  rammer  and  sponge  against  bayonets  and  swords. 
"  Spike  the  guns  !  "  "  Surrender  !  "  shout  the  rebels. 
"  Never  !  "  "  Down  with  rebels  !  "  reply  the  artillery 
men,  as  the  troops  from  Hancock  come  to  their  support. 
The  fierce,  short  battle  is  soon  decided,  the  rebels  flee, 
and  the  brave  artillery  men  soon  send  their  shot  and 
whizzing  shell  after  the  broken  ranks  of  the  defeated 
foe.  Bang  !  bang  !  roar  on  the  guns.  Huzzah  !  huzzah ! 
shout  on  the  men,  as  we  hurry  over  the  broken  and 
scattered  gravestones  of  the  cemetery  to 

Hancock's  and  sedgwick's  divisions. 

There  they  are,  just  as  they  were  that  day  !  Massa- 
chusetts is  represented  in  those  dusty  ranks  that  stretch 
along  the  side  of  the  hill,  down  by  the  fence,  beyond 
that  clump  of  trees  and  on  toward  Little  Round  Top. 
How  firm  they  stand,  how  rapidly  they  fire,  how 
patiently  they  wait  the  coming  foe  that  is  just  appear- 
ing beyond  the  open  fields  ;  how  silently  they  lift  their 


l62  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

pieces ;  how  suddenly  the  storm  breaks.  How  like 
demons  Pickett's  rebel  lines  shriek  and  gibber  on,  or 
how  like  wheat  before  a  hailstorm  they  fall,  then  falter, 
then  flee ;  while  Seminary  Hill  sends  back  the  echo  of 
victorious  shouts, — expect  not  reader,  that  our  pen  can 
tell.  Let  them  fight  on  through  the  dreary,  sleepless 
hours  that  come,  while  we  hurry  on  by  the  ammunition 
wagons  and  through  the  city  of  ambulances  and 
stretchers  to  the 

DEADLY    HILL 

of  Little  Round  Top.  Here  they  are  again — the  fear- 
less men  of  Sickles's  and  Sykes's  divisions.  Here  is 
the  battery  of  artillery,  planted  in  among  this  almost 
insurmountable  pile  of  cragged  rocks,  bellowing  in  its 
fury  and  spitting  death  and,  terror  from  its  fiery,  hydra 
mouths.  Here  are  the  sharp-shooters,  creeping  into 
little  niches  in  the  rocks,  pushing  their  rifles  through 
natural  loopholes  and  answering  the  death-dealing 
shots  of  the  rebels  across  the  ravine  at  the  haggard, 
rocky  "Devil's  Den."  Here  is  the  infantry  line 
endeavoring  to  build  a  wall  to  protect  themselves  from 
the  hissing  missiles  which  came  from  the  peach  orchard 
like  hail  before  a  hurricane.  Here  we  can  see  the 
whole  field,  from  the  orchard  around  to  Culp's  Hill. 
A  cloud  of  smoke  covers  the  front  lines,  but  in  the  rear 
are  the  hurrying  stretchers,  the  hospital  colors,  the  lum- 
bering ambulances,  the  reserves  and  supports,  all  shift- 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  163 

ing,  running,  stopping,  changing  front,  lying  down, 
leaping  up,  bewildering  the  eye ;  while  the  tremble  of 
the  heavy  guns,  the  clatter  of  wagons,  the  roar  of 
musketry,  and  the  blood-chilling  whoop  of  the  horrid 
shell,  deafen  and  benumb  the  ear.  Oh !  he  that  has  seen 
the  battle  of  Gettysburg  will  never  see  the  like  again. 

DEAD    FACES ! 

How  they  haunt  us !  Lying  all  about  the  fields  and 
beside  every  tree  in  the  woods.  Who  are  they  ?  Whose 
father,  or  brother,  or  husband  ?  Here  is  a  body  all 
broken  and  mangled.  Who  praised  the  symmetry  of 
that  form  when  last  it  stood  in  its  native  Northern  vil- 
lage ?  Here  is  a  face  all  black  and  swollen.  Who  was 
it  that  a  few  months  ago  called  it  beautiful  ?  Here  too 
are 

THE    WOUNDED. 

The  house,  the  yard,  the  adjoining  field  is  full  of 
them.  Over  these  are  the  surgeons.  "  Here,  bring 
that  man  here.  We  have  no  time  to  examine  wounds. 
We  can  cut  off  his  leg  quicker  than  we  can  dress  the 
wound.  Bring  him  along;  don't  mind  his  pleading. 
Lay  him  on  the  table.  Hold  on  there,  steward/'  In 
slashes  the  knife,  harsh  grates  the  saw,  and  our  brother 
or  father  is  maimed  for  life.  Oh !  the  maimed  and 
crippled  ones  of  battle  !  living  a  whole  life  of  perpetual 
martrydom.     He  that  is  shot  and  dies,  deserves  a  glo- 


164  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

rious  name  ;  but  what  do  they  not  deserve,  who  are 
shot  and  suffer  a  lifetime  before  they  die  ? 

But  let  these  scenes  of  battle,  like  the  apparitions 
they  call  up,  glide  into  oblivion  while  we  contemplate 
Gettysburg  and  its  interesting  environs  by  the  calm  and 
clear  daylight  of  peace. 

THE    THRIFTY    TOWN. 

The  town  of  Gettysburg  is  now  enjoying  an  era  of 
prosperity  which,  but  for  the  battle,  it  would  never  have 
seen.  Its  hotels  are  filled  with  visitors,  many  of  whom 
like  the  beautiful  valley  so  well  that  they  will  come  and 
settle,  bringing  with  them  manufactories,  improvements 
in  farming,  schools  and  colleges,  that  the  slow  one-cent 
natives  would  never  have  known.  The  college  build- 
ings— a  hospital  at  the  time  of  the  battle — are  now  filled 
with  hearty,  intelligent  students.  The  seminary  has 
been  cleaned  and  repaired.  A  hotel  has  been  erected 
at  the  mineral  springs,  and  business  of  every  kind  is 
flourishing.  We  endeavored  to  find  the  men  who  ran 
away  during  the  fight  and  came  back  afterwards  to  sell 
well  water  to  our  thirsty  soldiers ;  but,  strange  as  it 
may  seem,  even  the  men  themselves  denied  it.  Only 
one  house  in  the  town  was  shelled  during  the  battle, 
and  that  has  been  so  thoroughly  repaired,  that  it  re- 
quired the  closest  scrutiny  to  tell  where  the  shot  went 
through.     But  everywhere  around  the  town  the 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  165 

SCARS    OF    RATTLE    REMAIN. 

On  Seminar)-  Ridge  the  trees  and  fences  are  shat- 
tered and  riddled,  showing  plainly  how  fierce  was  the 
contest  where  the  fight  began.     Here  we  found 

TWO    BULLETS, 

one  driven  into  the  other  so  far  that  they  could  not  be 
pulled  apart.  The  supposition  is  that  a  Union  and  a 
rebel  sharp-shooter  aimed  so  accurately  for  each  other, 
and  fired  at  so  near  the  same  1,ime,  that  the  bullets 
met,  and  one  being  a  little  more  dense  than  the  other, 
pierced  the  one  coming  from  the  opposite  direction. 
Both  fell,  of  course,  to  the  ground,  and  thus  prevented 
the  death  of  both  the  marksmen,  which  must  have  been 
the  result  had  the  bullets  merely  razed  each  other. 
When  we  spoke  of  this  curiosity  at  the  hotel,  a  whole 
army  of 

RELIC    SPECULATORS 

wished  to  purchase  it.  Doubtless  the  sum  which  we 
received  for  it  was  trebled  when  sold  to  the  memento 
seekers  who  frequent  the  town.  These  speculators  do 
a  thriving  business  in  the  relic  line,  and  have  every- 
thing to  sell,  from  a  ioo-pound  shell  to  the  smallest 
wares  of  the  toy  shop,  all  in  some  way  connected  with 
the  battle.  Canes  cut  from  Culp's  Hill,  or  Little  Round 
Top  are  for  sale  in  many  shop  windows,  and  if  the  pur- 


1 66  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

chaser  is  a  little  incredulous,  and  inclined  to  doubt  that 
the  canes  came  from  those  places,  they  will  march  out 
with  him,  take  any  sapling  he  may  select,  and  make  it 
into  a  cane  in  a  remarkably  short  space  of  time.  This 
business  has  become  one  of  great  importance  to  Get- 
tysburg, and  it  is  proposed  to  introduce  machinery  for 
the  manufacture  of  toys  from  the  battle-field  wood. 

THE    TRACES 

which  we  found  of  the  fight  along  the  front  of  Han- 
cock's and  Sedgwick's  line — except  in  the  blasted 
peach  orchard — were  not  very  distinct,  owing  to  the 
growing  fields  of  grain  and  the  repairs  which  have  been 
put  upon  the  few  farm  houses.  But  the  graves  of  the 
rebel  dead  are  there,  dotting  the  fields  for  miles  around. 
In  one  or  two  places  the  bones  were  sticking  out,  but 
generally  their  graves  were  covered  with  clover,  and 
had  none  of  that  barbarously  neglected  appearance 
they  have  in  the  South. 

AT    LITTLE    ROUND    TOP 

the  bullet  scars  are  still  visible  on  the  rocks,  while 
several  large  flat  stones  near  which  officers  were  killed 
have  been  engraved  with  their  names  and  the  date  of 
their  death.  The  stone  wTall  which  the  troops  threw 
up  as  a  breastwork  is  still  entire,  and  the  trees  have 
not  vet  outgrown  their  wounds.     At 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  167 

CULP'S    HILL, 

our  guide  pointed  out  to  us  the  stumps  of  large  trees 
which  were  cut  down  by  the  continuous  fire  of  mus- 
ketry, and  a  long  trench  in  which,  according  to  an  in- 
scription on  an  adjoining  tree,  sixty  Confederates  were 
buried.  The  breastwork  of  logs,  as  well  as  the  trees 
which  lie  around,  has  been  pulled  to  pieces  and  hacked 
in  every  way  to  get  at  the  tons  of  bullets  which  the 
army  left  in  them.  When  we  were  there,  the  axes  of 
the  lead  and  relic  hunters  made  the  woods  chipper  in 
every  direction.     On 

CEMETERY    HILL, 

on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  from  the  cemetery,  the 
remains  of  the  low  earthworks  where  the  heavy  guns 
were  mounted  are  still  visible,  while  the  stone  walls  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill  remain  as  old  and  moss-covered  as 
they  were  at  the  time  those  fearful  charges  were  made 
over  them.  The  arched  gateway  of  the  cemetery,  which 
is  so  high  and  broad  that  it  is  used  as  a  dwelling,  has 
been  repaired,  but  the  fearful  havoc  which  the  shot 
made  with  it,  can  easily  be  imagined  by  the  visitor  who 
scrutinizes  the  variegated  patches  that  adorn  its  front. 

THE    CEMETERY 

has  been  kept  in  a  neat  and  tasty  condition,  the  grass 
being  often  cut,  and  the  flowers  by  the  graves  braced 


1 68  SCALING   THE   EAGLE'S    NEST. 

and  trimmed.     Near  by  the  cemetery,  in  a  small  open 
lot  which  we  passed  as  we  left  the  gate,  was 

A    MOST    INTERESTING   SIGHT. 

A  squad  of  about  sixty  boys,  all  neatly  dressed  and 
nearly  of  the  same  size,  were  going  through  the  move- 
ments of  company  drill.  It  is  true  that  the  order  to 
"  shoulder  arms  by  the  rear  rank  *'  was  a  little  faulty  in 
the  drill  master,  and  that  the  inclination  of  the  urchins 
to  poke  their  long  sticks  every-which-way  at  the  order 
"Right  shoulder  shift,"  or  to  stand  upon  their  heads 
upon  being  ordered  to  "  Ground  arms,"  partook  a  little 
of  the  funny.  But  be  as  awkward  as  they  might,  tread 
on  one  another's  heels,  or  carlessly  punch  one  another's 
ribs  as  they  might,  they  were  to  us  a  very  attractive 
sight.     They  were 

soldiers'  orphans. 
War  had  deprived  them  of  father  and  mother,  and  this 
large  white  house  beside  the  cemetery  is  their  home. 
"  Do  you  like  to  live  here  ? "  inquired  we  of  a  little 
bright-eyed,  auburn-haired  girl  that  was  swinging  on  the 
street  gate,  near  the  asylum. 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  it  is  real  nice,"  said  she  promptly,  and 
at  the  same  time  modestly  eyeing  her  bare  toes. 

"  What  do  you  do  here  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  we  study  and  sing,  and  play,  and  have  such 
nice  times,  we  girls  do,"  said  she. 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  169 

"  What  do  the  boys  do  ?  " 

"  Please,  sir,  they  play  with  us  girls  ;  only  they  some- 
times run  away  down  town,"  answered  she,  pointing  to 
the  military  display. 

When  we  had  walked  away  a  few  rods  we  turned  and 
saw  her  still  swinging  on  the  gate — singing  as  gaily  as 
if  her  mother  was  inside  the  house  and  her  father  in 
the  field  at  work.  The  words  "  we  have  such  nice 
times "  have  come  to  mind  often  since,  and  we  have 
wondered  if  the  old  gate  on  which  we  used  to  swing, 
or  the  flower  beds  among  which  we  used  to  hide, — often 
much  to  their  detriment, — would  have  been  as  attrac- 
tive if  our  mother  had  been  dead  and  the  body  of  our 
soldier  father  been  mouldering  in  the  next  field.  We 
cannot  believe  they  would.  We  believe  that  instead  of 
swinging  on  the  gate,  or  singing  "  Marching  through 
Georgia,"  we  would  have  been  cowering  behind  the 
back  door  lest  the  hobgoblins,  "ghosts  and  things," 
should  come  from  the  graveyard  and  take  up  their 
abode  by  our  door  for  the  express  purpose  of  flying 
away  with  naughty  little  boys  who  couldn't  do  some- 
thing possible — be  always  good-  natured.  We  should 
have  thought  that  our  father  was  in  the  cold,  damp 
ground  and  was  shivering  and  chilly.  We  should  have 
been  haunted  with  the  idea  that  we  must  die  and  be 
put  in  a  box  and  then  covered  with  dirt,  just  as  father 
had  been — only  we  were  too  little  to  stand  it  as  well  as 


170  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

father  could.  How  little  girls  might  feel  we  cannot 
tell,  as  we  have  had  no  experience,  but  we  are  satisfied 
that  all  boys  are  near  enough  alike  to  feel  as  we  would 
have  felt  and  be  afraid  of  the  same  terrors  that  fright- 
ened us.  Hence  we  say  it  is  not  only  unwise  but  cruel 
to  place  an  orphan  asylum  next  door  to  the  graveyard ; 
and  especially  so  when  that  graveyard  is  the  last  rest- 
ing place  of  the  orphans'  parents.  Some  people  may 
have  thought  it  would  be  romantic  to  place  the  asylum 
here  and  send  the  little  innocents  from  every  part  of 
the  State  to  brood  and  grow  idiotic  over  their  fathers' 
graves.  As  for  us,  we  fail  to  see  anything  romantic  or 
poetical  in  it,  and  regard  this  spot  of  all  others  the 
most  unfit  for  the  education  of  children.  Do  you  think 
they  will  be  more  patriotic  ?  Is  it  necessary  if  the 
father  dies  in  an  unjust  prison  that  the  children  should 
be  brought  up  within  its  walls  to  make  them  hate 
tyranny  ?  yet  it  is  the  same  principle.  These  children 
have  enough  to  eat,  good  clothes,  care,  and  all  that,  no 
doubt,  it  is  inhuman  and  exceedingly  unwise  to  keep 
them  here  with  the  constant  reminders  of  the  dead  in- 
stead of  the  incentives  they  should  have  to  an  inde- 
pendent and  happy  life. 

GETTYSBURG  AND  WATERLOO. 

When  we   returned  to  our  room   at  night  with  our 
mind  filled  with  the  incidents  of  the  battle  which  we 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  1 7  I 

had  heard  that  day,  and  others  we  had  listened  to  in 
other  States,  we  could  not  fail  to  see  a  remarkable 
similarity  between  the  battie-field  of  Gettysburg  and 
the  field  of  Waterloo.  Many  of  the  charges  made  by 
the  Confederates  were  similar  in  their  character  and 
result  to  those  made  by  the  French,  and  were  made 
over  ravines  and  up  hillsides  which  were  the  counter 
parts  of  those  at  Waterloo.  Le  Have  Saint  and  Hou- 
goumont  have  their  positions  on  the  field  of  Gettys- 
burg, although  no  villages  mark  the  location  here. 
Pickett's  last  charge  has  often,  by  the  best  historians, 
been  placed  in  the  same  catalogue  with  the  charge  of 
the  Old  Guard  at  Waterloo.  The  comparison  of  the 
losses  show  that  the  fighting  at  Gettysburg  and  Water- 
loo had  nearly  the  same  result.  The  allies  had  72,000 
men  at  Waterloo  ;  the  Federals  65,000  at  Gettysburg. 
The  French  had  80,000  at  Waterloo  ;  and  the  rebels 
90,000  at  Gettysburg.  The  allies  lost  20,000  men ;  the 
Federals  20,000.  The  French  lost  40,000  ;  the  Confed- 
erates at  Gettysburg  40,000.  The  British  at  Waterloo 
had  186  cannon  ;  the  Federals  at  Gettysburg  200.  The 
French  had  252  cannon  at  Waterloo  ;  and  the  rebels  at 
Gettysburg  200. 

In  its  consequences  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  may  be 
counted  as  important  as  Waterloo.  The  former  de- 
stroyed the  power  of  a  well-disciplined  and  defiant 
army,  which  invaded  the  North  for  the  exuress  purpose 


172  SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

of  spreading  desolation  and  ruin,  and  by  the  capture  of 
Baltimore  and  Washington  dictating  disgraceful  terms 
of  peace,  terms  which  would  have  dashed  at  once  all 
the  hopes  entertained  by  lovers  of  republics  and  by  the 
supporters  of  free  government  everywhere.  Napoleon 
would  have  established  a  tyranny  at  once  destructive  of 
the  interests  of  the  people  and  the  government  of 
European  nations.  Lee  would  have  established  a  slave- 
holding  oligarchy  or  a  monarchy,  carrying  the  cause  of 
humanity  back  into  the  centuries  long  past,  and  anni- 
hilating the  glorious  work  of  the  world's  greatest  and 
best  men.  Gettysburg  to  Lee,  like  Waterloo  to  Napc- 
leon,  was  a  decisive  defeat.  From  that  time,  as  General 
Hood  declared  to  us,  not  many  days  ago,  he  fought 
"  only  to  save  his  honor.' 

While  we  were  thinking  of  these  two  battles  we  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  to  ask  ourself  the  unanswer- 
able question  :  Had  the  French  soldiers  loving  wives, 
sisters,  mothers,  fathers,  at  home  to  mourn  them  as 
they  fell  ?  Were  they  missed  as  our  soldiers  were 
missed?  Did  they  suffer  the  hardships  of  war  as 
calmly?  Ah!  Of  course  they  suffered, — and  were 
missed  as  our  friends  were  missed.  They  were  mourned 
by  friends  as  near  and  dear  as  were  the  Union  soldiers 
at  Gettysburg.  Men  are  alike  everywhere.  How 
much  of  life  and  history  can  we  learn  from  a  single 
battle ! 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 


*73 


ONE    INCIDENT    IN    THE    BATTLE 

Mve  cannot  refrain  from  relating:  A  captain  in  a  New- 
York  regiment  was  ordered  to  place  his  company  on 
the  skirmish  line,  without  any  directions  as  to  how, 
when  or  where.  The  orderly  without  stopping  from  a 
gallop  had  given  the  order  from  the  general  in  command 
and  in  the  excitement  neglected  to  say  ';  to  the  right  of 
the  Baltimore  road.''  The  captain  had  drawn  up  his 
company,  which  had  been  detached  for  sharp-shooting, 
before  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  did  not  know  where  to 
go.  Fearing  lest  he  might  incur  blame  if  he  stopped 
where  he  was,  ordered  a  "  forward,  march,"  and  started 
for  the  nearest  line,  but  the  colonel  in  command  would 
not  let  him  pass  the  line.  Then  knowing  nothing  better 
he  counter-marched  to  his  old  position  near  the  reserve, 
resolved  to  wait  orders.  None  came.  The  battle  went 
on,  from  which  he  had  only  just  been  relieved,  and  his 
company  laid  down  to  rest.  Night  came  and  the  great 
battle  was  over.  The  captain  had  lost  sixteen  men,  had 
fought  nobly  and  was  proud  of  it.  But  an  old  enemy, 
whose  enmity  he  had  incurred  by  superceding  him  in 
command  of  a  battalion,  and  which  was  the  captain's 
right  as  he  was  senior  officer,  took  occasion  to  say  that 
the  captain  received  orders  to  go  on  the  skirmish  line 
with  his  men  and  refused  on  account  of  cowardice. 
The  accuser  was  a  brother  of  the  brigadier.  The  brig- 
adier  preferred  charges,  and  so  slyly  used  his  influence 


174  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

that,  after  its  being  shown  that  the  order  to  move  was 
given,  and  that  the  captain  did  not  go  outside  the  line 
of  battle,  the  court  ordered  a 

DISHONORABLE    DISMISSAL. 

The  accuser  took  the  captain's  place.  Doubtless  he 
was  happy.  It  was  such  a  small  matter  to  hoist  him- 
self by  destroying  the  happiness  of  another,  that  his 
conscience  may  not  have  felt  it.  But  the  dishonored 
man,  what  became  of  him  ?  Ashamed  to  be  seen  by  a  sol- 
dier— with  all  his  hopes  of  fame  and  life  dashed  at  once 
to  pieces — his  good  name,  and  with  it  everything  held 
dear  gone,  he  wandered  about  the  country  in  deserted 
places,  almost  a  maniac,  moaning  and  cursing  his  un- 
just sentence.  At  last  a  thought  full  of  hope  entered 
his  brain,  and  lifting  his  head  once  more,  he  acted 
upon  it.  -  "  I  have  been  a  private  soldier  before  and  can 
be  again,''  said  he,  and  soon  after  was  sent  out  as  a 
recruit.  The  year  of  war  passed  on  ;  the  battles  in 
which  he  was  engaged  were  many,  and  as  he  had  his 
honor  at  stake  he  behaved  with  the  greatest  bravery. 
His  honor  or  his  death  were  to  be  won,  and  fearlessly 
he  went  to  his  task.  The  court  martial  was  reversed, 
and  deserved  promotion  came.  One,  two,  three,  four 
promotions,  and  he  was  a  lieutenant  colonel.  At 
Petersburg  a  new  department  was  formed,  and  his 
regiment  was  detached  from  his  old  corps  and  sent 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  1 75 

into  the  brigade  of  his  old  enemy.  They  had  not  met 
since  the  dark  day  of  that  court  martial.  The  brigadier 
was  dead,  but  his  old  enemy  was  a  captain  still,  and  at 
that  time  under  arrest  for  the  third  time  for  drunken- 
ness and  disgraceful  conduct. 

When  the  drunkard  learned  that  the  lieutenant 
colonel  was  in  his  brigade,  he  sent  for  him.  Long  and 
earnestly  did  the  arrested  man  urge  the  lieutenant 
colonel  to  forgive  him,  and  after  he  had  obtained  assent 
he  followed  it  up  by  requesting  the  lieutenant  colonel 
to  intercede  for  him  as  he  feared  dishonorable  dismissal. 
At  last  the  lieutenant  colonel  agreed  to  do  that  and 
went  at  once  to  the  commanding  general. 

"  No,  sir.  This  is  the  third  time  he  has  been  guilty 
of  such  disgraceful  conduct,  and  he  shall  be  punished," 
said  the  general. 

"  But,  general,  may  he  not  be  allowed  if  he  chooses 
to  resign  ?  "  urged  the  lieutenant  colonel,  resolved  if 
he  could  not  do  the  best  to  take  the  next  best  course. 
The  general  hesitated  a  long  time,  said  that  the  captain 
deserved  disgrace,  etc.,  but  finally  granted  the  lieuten- 
ant colonel's  urgent  request.  The  captain  resigned, 
glad,  indeed,  to  escape  in  that  way,  and  returned  to 
Western  New  York.  With  a  brevet  the  lieutenant 
colonel  returned  to  his  home,  restored,  it  would  seem,  to 
honor  and  his  good  name.  But  no  ;  his  old  foe,  who 
had  asked  his  forgiveness  and  received  such  aid  at  his 


176  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

hands,  takes  occasion  to  say  to  all  who  happen  to  be 
strangers  to  the  colonel,  "  He  was  dismissed  from  the 
service  but  I  honorably  resigned"  and  the  brave,  honor- 
able, benevolent  man  and  officer  goes  with  the  stigma 
still.  When  the  story  was  told  us  at  Washington,  we 
thought  of  other  cases  that  had  come  under  our  own 
observation,  and  we  resolved  to  be  careful  how  we 
censured  even  the  dishonorably  discharged  soldier,  lest 
we  might  wound  a  heart  already  lacerated  and  broken 
by  the  stabs  of  military  injustice. 


FOURTH  LETTER. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  mean  man  ?  One  with  no  honor, 
no  sympathy,  no  generosity,  no  anything  that  is  good. 
Perhaps  you  never  have.  But  you  must  not  take  your 
experience   as   conclusive  evidence    that  there   are  no 

MEAN    MEN, 

for  there  is  no  doubt  whatever  in  our  mind  but  that 
there  are  some  still  living.  Not  many  days  ago,  and  at 
a  place  not  a  thousand  miles  from  Vicksburg,  a  fierce 
looking  moustache,  with  a  man  attached  to  it,  invited 
us  to  dine  with  it.  So  urgent  was  his  invitation,  and 
so  much  of  an  honor  would  he  deem  our  company 
that  we  consented  to  go.  We  did  not  wish  to  accept 
his  invitation,  and  had  much  rather  eat  our  corn  bread 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  I  77 

and  bacon  at  the  hotel  than  partake  of  nature's  richest 
viands  in  the  house  of  a  stranger.  Yet  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  refusing,  and  so  we  went. 

The  moustache  stood  in  the  doorway  of  a  splendid 
mansion  as  we  approached,  and  condescendingly  sent 
his  nigger  to  open  the  gate  and  show  us  up  the  laby- 
rinth-like path  which  led  around  the  flower  beds  to 
the  porch. 

"  I  am  exceedingly  happy  to  see  you,"'  exclaimed 
our  host,  extending  both  his  hands  and  almost  pulling 
up  into  the  porch. 

"  This  is  my  daughter  D ,  and  this  my  daughter 

M ,"  said  he,  motioning  toward  some  fine  jewel- 
ry, paint  and  feathers,  supported  by  two  forms  that 
looked  for  all  the  world  like  wasps  standing  on  their 
tails,  but  which,  in  the  South,  are  often  called  "  young 
ladies."  The  moustache  gave  a  dignified  grin;  the 
feathers  bobbed,  creases  came  in  the  paint,  and  we 
walked  into  the  parlor  of  the  chivalrous  Southron  feel- 
ing like  an  alligator  we  saw  at  Baton  Rouge  trying  to 
climb  a  tree.  However,  we  soon  felt  our  awkwardness 
clearing  away  before  the  "  make-yourself-at-home  "  de- 
meanor of  our  host.  After  the  compliments  of  the  day 
were  passed,  and  we  had  been  introduced  to  a  thin 
delicate  lady  with  a  small  voice,  a  song  was  proposed, 
and  the  paint  and  jewelry  seated  itself  sideways  at  the 
piano. 


178  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

"  Shall  I  play  '  Dixie,'  pa  ?  " 

"  No  !  no !  "  quickly  responded  our  host,  "  give  us  a 
national  air." 

"  I'm  sure,  pa,  you  must  know  I  can't  play  national 
airs  ;  no  one  plays  them  here.'' 

"  Well,  give  us  '  Willie's  on  the  blue,  black — or  dark 
— Sea/  that  is  the  next  thing  to  the  '  Star  Spangled 
Banner,'  isn't  it,  Mr.  Correspondent  ?  " 

"  We  would  be  happy  to  hear  anything,"  said  we 
looking  over  the  music,  and  selecting  from  the  small  pile 
"  Sally  Come  Up,"  "  Up  in  a  Balloon  "  and  "  De  Skeet- 
ers  do  Bite,"  wondering  if  that  was  the  class  of  music 
these  painted  dolls  delighted  in.  These,  and  the  "  Bon- 
nie Blue  Flag,"  "  My  Maryland  "  and  "  Dixie,"  com- 
prised the  greater  part  of  the  collection. 

Soon  the  usual  routine  of  teasing  and  coaxing  was 
over  and  the  performer  began.  We  were  rather 
pleased  with  "Write  Me  a  Letter  from  Home,"  and  in 
imitation  of  the  Southern  flatterers  told  the  dear  per- 
former that  it  reminded  us  of  Madame  Parepa-Rosa. 
But  we  did  not  say  "by  contrast." 

After  the  singing  the  conversation  turned  upon  the 
state  of  the  South.  Our  host  became  considerably 
excited  as  the  discussion  went  on,  and  at  last  arose  to 
his  feet,  exclaiming: — 

"  That's  the  way  it  always  has  been.  The  South  is 
slandered  by  the  North.     You  say  you  have  been  every- 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  179 

where  treated  kindly  ;  and  that  is,  as  I  know,  the  testi- 
mony of  every  Northern  man  that  comes  here.  We 
have  done  rebelling.  We  say,  'It's  all  right  now. 
Come  among  us ;  we  will  receive  you  kindly,  and  do 
all  we  can  do  for  you.  Here's  my  daughters  ;  as  good 
girls  as  ever  lived,  and  not  bad  looking,  either.  Now 
the  time  has  been  when  we  wouldn't  have  a  Yankee 
on  this  estate.  But  now — now — the  young  sprigs  are 
killed  off — and — and — we  feel  like  inviting  others  to 
take  their  places.  We  are  human.  We  like  society, 
and  we  love  our  Northern  brethren.  We  receive  them 
as  we  do  you,  sir,  with  open  arms.  The  people  of  the 
great  and  noble  North  are  our  friends,  and  we  have 
nothing  but  the  purest  love  for  them"  Here  he  was  in- 
terrupted by  the  tea  bell,  and  we  went  to  the  feast  of 
"good  things,"  determined  that  if  we  could  not  feel 
quite  at  home  in  that  society,  we  would  at  least  enjoy 
one  square  meal.  How  we  got  through  the  evening 
and  the  night — for  we  could  not  break  away — we  can- 
not tell.  Vague  memories  of  songs,  piano,  guitar,  lit- 
tle stories,  the  recital  of  Mother  Goose,  a  cup  of  coffee 
and  a  soft  bed  is  all  we  distinctly  recall.  But  when 
breakfast  was  over,  which  we  swallowed  in  company 
with  our  host  only,  and  we  took  our  leave,  which  was 
exceedingly  affectionate  on  his  part,  we  drew  a  long 
sigh  of  relief,  and  rehearsed  mentally  a  eulogy  on  the 
spirit  of  freedom.     We  distinctly  remember  feeling,  as 


180  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

we  passed  out  of  the  iron  gate,  which  the  same  col- 
ored individual  closed,  a  strong  temptation  to  turn  and 
inscribe  on  the  panels  those  classic  words, 

"  Who  enters  here  leaves  all  hope  behind." 

If  any  person  had  inquired  of  us  then  why  we  felt 
as  we  did,  we  could  not  have  replied.  Everything  that 
could  be  done  by  our  entertainers  had  been  done  ap- 
parently in  hearty  good  will,  and  as  we  pondered  upon 
it  we  felt  slightly  conscience  stricken  for  feeling  so  ill- 
tempered.  But  there  are  prompters  of  whom  we  know 
little,  whose  guidance  is  much  more  consistent  than 
the  cold  calculations  of  man. 

During  our  stay  in  that  place  we  met  our  host  often, 
and  he  was  always  very  pleasant  and  agreeable.  We 
learned  also  that  he  was  trying  hard  to  get  the  office  of 
internal  revenue  collector.  The  morning  when  we  in- 
tended to  take  our  departure  our  friend  came  down  to 
see  us  off,  and  wished  us  a  happy  journey  and  a  long 
life,  as  the  train  started.  Owing  to  an  accident  the 
train  did  not  get  far  from  the  depot,  and  in  company 
with  other  passengers  we  walked  back  to  the  station. 
On  going  into  the  passenger  room  to  deposit  our  baggage 
we  saw  our  friend,  with  his  back  toward  us,  engaged 
in  a  loud  and  earnest  conversation  with  a  neighbor. 
Imagine  our  chagrin  when,  as  we  came  nearer  to  them, 
we  heard  the  following  conversation  almost  verbatim  : — 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  IB  I 

"  As  tor  me,"  said  the  neighbor,  "  I  love  the  South 
too  much  to  fraternize  with  her  enemies." 

"Nor  I,  nor  I,"  exclaimed  our  host,  "unless  I  see 
that  I  can  make  something  out  of  him.  The  nigger 
brings  a  pail  of  swill,  you  know,  when  we  wish  to  catch 
the  pig  and  get  his  bacon." 

"  But  what  in  the could  you  want  of  that  radical 

from  Boston  ?  "  inquired  the  neighbor. 

"  I  want  him  to  say  a  good  word  for  me  in  the  radical 
papers.  That's  just  what  I  want.  I  may  need  them  to 
use  in  Washington.  As  for  the  d — d  fool  of  a  Yan- 
kee himself,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  felt  like  cutting 
his  throat  every  time  I  looked  at  him.  I  would  just 
like  to  hang  up  every  cussed  Yankee  that  comes  down 
here.  For  they  only  stir  up  the  niggers  to  insolence  and 
deviltry." 

"  Well,  may  be  you  can  stomach  them,  but  I  can't ; 
and  I  reckon  it  will  be  some  time  before  I'll  introduce 
one,  right  from  Boston,  to  my  young  ladies,"  said  the 
neighbor  sarcastically. 

Upon  this  we  turned  away  hastily  and  went  back 
to  our  hotel  with  our  minds  made  up  that  no 
moustache,  no  jewelry,  no  paint,  no  waterfalls,  no 
feathers,  no  sleepy  eyes,  nor  anything  would  ever 
get  us  into  another  aristocratic  mansion  where  the 
pure  love  of  t/ie  North  is  dealt  out  for  newspaper 
puffs. 


182  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

VICKSBURG    IN    i860. 

The  Roman,  who  could  boast  of  the  seven  hills 
and  the  throne  they  sustained,  was  no  more  vain-glori- 
ous than  were  the  aristocratic  citizens  of  Vicksburg  in 
i860.  They  were  not  many  in  numbers,  but  they  felt 
as  though  Vicksburg  might  at  some  future  day  "rule 
the  world."  Each  family  had  two  servants  to  each 
member  in  the  mansion,  and  hundreds  at  work  in  the 
fields.  They  could  live  like  princes  and  do  nothing. 
They  lay  in  bed  late  in  the  morning,  sat  in  the  shade 
till  evening,  were  driven  out  by  their  servants  at  night, 
and  returning,  danced  till  midnight.  The  ladies  were 
too  proud  to  stoop  for  a  handkerchief,  and  had  servants 
to  pick  it  up  and  to  carry  the  trail  'of  their  dresses. 
The  men,  for  want  of  better  occupation,  walloped 
niggers,  fawned  on  the  ladies  and  fought  duels. 

But  the 

LOCATION    OF    THE    CITY 

was  hardly  pleasant  or  convenient.  Let  a  farmer  place 
twenty  or  thirty  haystacks  on  the  banks  of  a  river  as 
close  together  as  they  can  stand,  and  he  will  have  a 
facsimile  of  the  h  lis  upon  and  among  which  stood 
Vicksburg.  The  streets  cut  through  between  these  hills 
were  very  narrow,  and  at  places  were  hemmed  in  by 
perpendicular  banks  of  sand  forty  feet  high.  At  other 
places,  where  the  ravines  were  crossed,  deep  caverns 
yawned   upon  the   dizzy  traveler  as  he  dared  to  look 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  183 

down  the  embankment.  The  dwellings  and  stores 
were  set  into  the  sides  of  hills  or  en  their  tops,  while 
in  many  cases  it  was  sure  death  to  fall  or  leap  from 
the  porch  into  the  street  below.  A  few  brick  buildings 
along  the  river  bank  contained  the  greater  part  of  the 
merchandise,  except  perhaps  the  open  spaces  where 
the  cotton  was  piled  for  shipment  to  New  Orleans. 

At  that  time  cotton  was  king.  A  Southerner  could 
whip  three  Yankees.  The  nigger  had  no  rights  which 
the  white  man  was  bound  to  respect.  Jeff  Davis  often 
drove  up — or,  rather,  his  darkey  drove — from  his  plan- 
tation down  the  river  and  made  bargains  with  the 
boats  to  land  at  his  place  to  take  off  cotton.  He  often 
took  drinks  with  his  older  brother,  Joe.  Jeff  talked 
politics  then  and  tried  to  induce  his  brother  to  go  into 
the  Confederacy  business.  It  might  do  for  Jeff,  but 
not  for  Joe.  So  his  brother  kept  out.  Then  Southern 
gentlemen  went  to  Northern  colleges  for  the  charitable 
purpose  of  showing  how  they  could  handle  revolvers 
and  bowie  knives  and  how  quickly  their  weak  heads 
could  get  drunk.  Then  the  white  man  in  Vicksburg 
was  a  lord  and  the  blacks  were  degraded  slaves.  But, 
alas  !  the  white  man  wanted  his  rights.  He  killed  or 
tarred  and  feathered  all  the  Yankees  who  came  here  ; 
but  it  was  an  infringement  of  his  rights  when  the  rest  re- 
mained at  home.  His  rights  called  for  the  enslave- 
ment   of  white   and   black.     He   was   getting  sick    of 


1 84  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

black  mothers  for  his  children,  and  wished  to  own 
white  ones.  He  was  mad ;  he  was.  He  hadn't  his 
rights.  He  would  have  his  rights  if  he  had  to  go  up 
North  and  whip  every  Yankee  this  side  of  the  Canada 
line.  He  was  spoiling  for  a  fight.  He  would  fight. 
He  would  hit  somebody,  so  he  would. 

And  he  did  hit  somebody.  Unfortunately  for  him  it 
was  a  people  who  had  rights  they  dared  maintain.  The 
wave  of  Southern  hate  and  pride  rushed  at  the  rock — 
burst  into  bubbles — and  floated  into  oblivion. 

vicksburg  in   1863. 

Three  years.  Vicksburg  in  war.  A  grand  sight  it 
must  have  been.  The  tops  of  the  numerous  hills 
covered  with  breastworks  and  these  surmounted  with 
long  dark  rows  of  cannon  ;  the  Confederate  flag,  ragged 
and  dirty,  flying  from  the  isolated  court-house  ;  the 
long  line  of  gun  boats  down  the  river  lying  listlessly  at 
anchor ;  the  mortar  fleet  in  the  river  across  the  penin- 
sula ;  the  yellow  line  of  earth  being  thrown  from  the 
canal  by  the  United  States  soldiers;  the  wide,  dark 
river  moving  slowly  on  to  the  Gulf ;  the  silent  city 
among  the  hills ;  the  deserted  levee  and  occupied 
warehouses  then  under  fire ;  when  the  smoke  of  the 
echoing  guns  almost  hid  the  gunboats  and  motar  fleet ; 
when  shrieking  shell  descended  upon  the  dwellings,  the 
warehouses,    the    streets,   the    hills,  the    forts, — every- 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  1S5 

where ;  when  the  smoke  of  burning  buildings  curled 
up  to  the  bright  skies  and  left  a  shadow  over  the  city ; 
when  each  hill-top  belched  flame  and  smoke  and  iron  ; 
when  the  city  shook  until  the  sandy  hills  began  to 
crumble  upon  the  streets  and  houses  in  huge  ava- 
lanches ;  when  all  the  inhabitants  were  crowded  into 
caves  dug  in  the  perpendicular  banks ;  when  streets 
were  cut  through  the  hills ;  when  the  thick  cloud  of 
smoke  encircling  the  city  in  the  distance  showed  where 
Grant's  lines  were  engaged;  and  when  the  dead  were 
too  thick  in  the  streets  to  bury  and  the  wounded  too 
many  to  care  for;  when  death,  suffering,  sorrow,  terror 
was  the  sacrifice  demanded  of  the  people  who  had 
transgressed  the  commands  of  a  just  God.  How  they 
must  have  suffered  !  Living  in  holes  which  often  caved 
in  upon  them,  burying  them  alive  ;  living  on  rats,  mules 
and  dogs  ;  constantly  in  terror  of  mortar  shells,  which 
fell  about  the  mouths  of  their  caves  and  often  rolled 
in  to  burst,  kill  and  mangle ;  when  legless  men,  bleed- 
ing and  uncared  for,  lay  upon  the  hillsides, — armless 
women  shrieked  in  pain  for  help  from  the  caverns ; 
when  the  descent  of  an  avalanche  mercifully  took  from 
the  inhabitants  a  few  mouths  that  they  would  otherwise 
have  been  obliged  to  feed ;  when  horrid  snakes  and 
lizzards  crawled  over  the  sleepers  at  night ;  when,  at 
last,  starving  and  ragged,  made  insane  by  weeks  of  ter- 
ror and  suspense,  the  general,  who  had  made  a  "  brave 


1 86  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

defense,"  when  all  but  he  was  starving,  surrendered 
them  at  discretion  into  the  hands  of  the  "fiendish 
Yankee."  Ah,  what  a  change.  "You  will  have  a 
piece  of  bread,  Massa.  Here,  missus,  take  dis 
habersack  of  corn  bread,"  says  the  negro  who  now 
carries  a  bayonet  instead  of  a  trail,  'and  who  waits  on 
"Massa  Grant"  instead  of  "Massa  Davis."  "  Dese 
is  good  quarters,  dey  is.  Dis  was  massa's  ole  mansion, 
dis  was.  Halt,  dar  /  I'm  a  sojer  ;  dis  in  Genel  Pher- 
son's  headquarters.  No,  missus,  no  parties,  no  nigger 
waiter,  dis  day.  We're  sojers.  Dis  niggah's  stood  at 
dis  gate  afore.  Den  I'se  licked  ef  I  didn't  stay  rite 
yer  to  wait  on  de  visiters.  Now  I  hev  nuffin  to  do  wid 
visiters  ;  I'se  free.  I  'list  and  stan'  guard  my  own  ac- 
cordin  '.  I'se  guard  about  dese  headquarters,  so  don't 
hamper  dis  niggar  no  more." 

VICKSBURG    IN    1869. 

Vicksburg  to-day  is  a  quiet  little  town  of  some  little 
commercial  importance,  and  is  made  lively  by  the  fre- 
quent arrivals  of  steamboats  from  St.  Louis  or  New 
Orleans.  The  buildings  show  the  marks  of  the  great 
siege,  and  in  many  places  the  patch  work  covers  the 
greater  part  of  the  structures.  The  hundreds  of  caves 
in  the  sides  of  the  hills  are  still  open  and  bring  to  mind 
the  accounts  we  have  read  and  heard  related  of  the 
suffering  there.     Many,  however,  have  caved  in,  and 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  187 

in  some  places  the  whole  side  of  the  hill  came  down 
into  the  street  at  the  same  time.  One  of  these  caves, 
opened  a  few  weeks  ago,  was  found  to  contain  the 
bones  of  a  whole  family  who  had  been  suffocated  there 
during  the  siege.  The  cannon  have  all  been  removed, 
but  the  rifle  pits  and  earth  forts  still  remain  on  the  hill- 
tops. The  spot  where  Grant  and  Pemberton  consulted 
upon  the  terms  of  surrender,  which  was  then  sur- 
rounded by  trees  and  shaded  by  the  branches  of  a 
large  oak,  is  now  in  a  open  field,  cultivated  by  a  negro 
who  fought  there.  The  marble  monument  raised  to 
mark  the  spot  was  so  hacked  by  relic-seekers  that  it 
has  been  removed  and  a  ten-inch  Columbiadgun  reared 
in  its  place,  upon  which  is  engraved  the  words, 

"THE  SITE  WHERE  GEN.    U.    S.    GRANT 

ARRANGED  THE  TERMS  OF   SURRENENDER  WITH 

LIEUT.-GEN.    PEMBERTON." 

The  graves  of  the  Northern  soldiers,  which  were 
thickly  strown  over  the  hillsides  and  along  the  ravines, 
have  been  opened  and  the  bodies  taken  to  the  ceme- 
tery, just  above  the  city  on  the  bank  of  the  river.  The 
Confederate  graves  are  ploughed  over  and  obliterated, 
while  the  bones  of  many  are  exhumed  by  lead  hunters 
and  carried  into  the  city  and  sold  for  fertilizing  pur- 
poses. 

"  Have  you  got  a  lot  o'  Yankee  bones  there,  Sambo  ? 
Well,  pitch  them  in  here  ;  they  are  just  as  good  as  mule 


l88  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

bones,''"  greeted  our  ears  as  one  of  these  bone  pickers 
deposited  his  load  at  the  shop  of  the  purchaser.  Ah, 
don't  deceive  yourself;  they  are  not  Yankee  bones; 
thank  God,  they  sleep  in  peace,  thought  we  as  we 
passed  on  down  the  street.  The  canal,  which  took  so 
much  time  and  labor  to  excavate  is  now  filled  with 
sand  and  flood  wood  deposited  by  the  overflowing 
Mississippi. 

The  Southern  chivalry,  either  refusing  "  to  hire  a 
nigger"  or  unable  to  get  them,  are  now  obliged  to 
carry  their  own  trails,  drive  their  own  or  borrowed 
horses,  and  turn  to  the  right  when  they  meet  a  colored 
citizen  of  African  descent.  Yankees  are  working  into 
the  trade  and  building  some  new  stores  ;  while  the  ne- 
groes are  industrious  and  happy,  having  homes  and 
schools  of  their  own.  A  combination  of  the  landown- 
ers, who  will  not  sell  a  foot  of  land  to  a  negro,  at 
present  hinders  the  full  exercise  of  their  enterprising 
spirit;  but  this  cannot  last  long.  The  junk  shops  are 
full  of  old  pieces  of  shell  and  tons  of  bullets,  which 
will  soon  be  shipped  away  and  recast  into  stoves,  roof- 
ing, or  perhaps  into  ploughshares  and  pruning-hooks. 
The  glorious  old  flag  floats  proudly  from  the  staff  over 
the  national  dead  and  from  the  top  of  the  barracks  in 
the  city,  where  the  garrison  of  soldiers  now  remain. 
The  silent,  smooth  old  Mississippi  moves  majestically 
on.  carrying  up  and  down  the  commerce  of  a  mighty 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  189 

nation.  No  batteries  frown  from  its  banks,  no  rebel 
flags  fly  from  the  bluffs ;  all  speaks  peace.  That 
peace  which  "flows  like  a  river"  must  soon  come, 
and  the  nation  become  the  "  home  of  the  free,"'  which 
the  soldiers  of  the  nation  fought  to  make  it.  The 
Fourth  of  July  was  a  fitting  day  for  rebels  against  the 
government  founded  on  that  day  to  surrender,  and 
may  the  nation  founded  in  76  and  preserved  in  '63 
see  many  hundred  years  before  another  hand  is  raised 
against  it. 

A    SAD,    SAD    HISTORY. 

While  we  were  wandering  over  the  fields  to-day  in 
search  of  the  fortifications,  picking  up  fragments  of 
shell,  old  canteens,  bayonet  scabbards  and  pieces  of 
haversacks,  we  met  a  man  about  thirty-five  years  of 
age.  His  clothes  were  ragged,  his  beard  bushy  and 
uncombed,  his  hair  matted  and  his  face  dirty.  He 
was  a 

PICTURE    OF    WRETCHEDNESS, 

although  Fowler  would  call  him  phrenologically  a 
smart  and  intelligent  man.  He  was  restlessly  pacing 
about  through  brush  and  over  the  hills,  with  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him  and  his  head  bent  down  as  if  in  a 
deep  study. 

We  hurried  up  to  the  spot  where  he  must  meet  us  if 
he  kept  on  in  the  direction  he  was  coming,  and  waited 


190  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

for  him.  He  neither  looked  nor  spoke  to  us  in  passing 
nor  heeded  our  "  Good  evening,  sir,"  until  he  had 
passed  us  several  paces.  He,  however,  turned  abruptly 
about  like  a  man  who  suddenly  discovers  that  he  has 
forgotten  something,  and  muttered  between  his  teeth, 
"  Did  you  speak  to  me,  sir  ?  " 

"  We  told  him  that  we  did,  and  that  we  wished  to 
make  some  inquiries  about  the  battle-field.  We  told 
him  that  we  were  anxious  to  see  where  the  Federal 
lines  were  located,  as  we  were  from  Massachusetts. 

"  Oh,  yes,  from  Massachusetts,"  said  he,  straighten- 
ing up ;  "I  have  been  in  Massachusetts,  and  was  born 
in  Vermont."  Then  after  a  pause  he  clenched  his 
hand  and  said  sadly,  "  I  wish  I  was  dead  now." 

"  Why  so  ? "  said  we,  feeling  a  pity  for  such  a 
wretched  creature  as  he  appeared  to  be. 

"  If  you  are  going  out  toward  the  bayou  I  will  show 
you,"  said  he,  leading  the  way. 

We  began  to  think  the  man  was  insane,  and  after 
following  him  nearly  a  mile  we  halted  and  asked  him 
how  far  he  intended  to  go.  He  stated  that  we  were 
almost  there ;  and  so  we  kept  on.  He  soon  turned  off 
from  the  main  road  into  an  open  field,  surrounded  by 
a  growth  of  young  timber ;  and  after  passing  the  bar- 
ren spot  which  appeared  to  have  been  at  sometime  the 
site  of  a  building,  he  suddenly  stopped,  and  pointing 
to  a  bunch  of  rose  trees,  said,  in  a  low  tone : — 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  191 

11  There  !  In  that  grave  lies  the  reason  why  I  wish 
I  was  dead.     She  was  my  wife,  sir." 

"  How  long  has  she  been  dead  ?  "  asked  we  as  sym- 
pathetically as  we  could. 

"  Well,  seeing  you  have  taken  interest  enough  in  me 
to  come  along  so  far,  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  story/' 
said  he,  taking  out  his  knife  to  trim  the  rose  bush. 

HIS    STORY. 

"  She  was  twenty-nine  years  old,  sir,  and  she  was  a 
Southern  lady,  too.  I  came  down  here  long  before  the 
war  and  had  a  nice  bit  of  land  here.  I  fell  in  with  this 
lady  at  the  city  up  river,  and  we  were  married  in  1862. 
I  kept  out  of  the  war  as  long  as  I  could,  because  I 
didn't  like  fighting  anyhow,  as  I  was  happy  at  home, 
and  because  I  felt  more  like  fighting,  if  I  fought  at 
all,  among  my  native  Vermonters.  I  hated  the  Con- 
federacy, and  said  so,  and  it  got  them  down  on  me. 
So  one  day  a  company  of  infantry  came  along  and 
said  they  would  shoot  me  on  my  own  threshhold  if  I 
didn't  enlist  at  once  in  the  Confederate  army.  I  lived 
right  there  then,  where  you  see  the  weeds.  I  couldn't 
get  away  from  them,  and  finally,  with  a  gun  at  my 
breast,  I  said  I  would  enlist,  and  went  off  leaving  my 
wife  crying  in  the  door.  I  can  see  just  how  she  stood 
with  her  handkerchief  up  to  her  face,  this  way,  and 
left  her  a-waving  like  this.     But  no  use ;  I  had  to  en- 


192  SCALING   THE    EAGLE  S    NEST. 

list  with  the  Missourians,  and  so  I  did,  with  the  mental 
reservation  that  I  would  run  away  the  first  opportuni- 
ty. But  I  didn't  get  any  chance,  for  they  watched  me 
as  close  as  a  bloodhound  does  a  nigger.  Finally, 
when  Grant's  army  came  down  here  our  brigade  was 
sent  out  to  kind  o'  hold  them  in  check.  I  hadn't 
been  home  since  I  went  away,  and  my  wife  wrote  me 
trying  to  cheer  me  up.  The  second  day  we  moved  up 
in  plain  sight  of  my  house,  our  lines  being  along 
where  the  fence  is  yonder.  Then  the  Yankees,  they 
came  out  of  the  woods  over  there,  and  began  firing. 
I  wondered  what  had  become  of  my  wife,  for  the  bul- 
lets from  both  sides  began  to  knock  the  shingles  off 
the  house.  One  side  there,  where  you  see  the  cellar 
door.  Well,  that's  where  she  went  to  get  away  from 
the  bullets  ;  she  and  her  waiter  girl.  All  night  I  stood 
out  there  by  that  tree,  wishing  I  might  go  and  see  my 
wife.  But  she  didn't  know  that  I  was  there  at  all. 
But  I  determined  to  desert  to  the  Union  lines  the  next 
night,  so  I  arranged  it  to  be  on  picket,  and  I  was  set 
out  there  in  the  corner  of  the  field.  Just  as  it  was 
coming  dark  I  lay  down  on  the  ground,  so  that  the  other 
pickets  might  not  see  me,  and  crawled  along  slowly 
toward  the  house,  and  when  I  got  within  a  few  rods  I 
jumped  and  ran  for  the  house.  When  I  came  around 
the  corner  a  picket  discovered  what  I  was  at,  and  fired 
after    me,    and   the   bullet   went    over    my   head.     I 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  1 93 

screamed,  '  Mary,  Mary,'  and  she  knew  my  voice  and 
came  right  out  to  meet  me  on  the  step,  and  said,  "  Oh, 
dear,  dear  George,  let's  hurry  away  from  here,'  and 
opened  her  arms  to  put  them  around  my  neck  and 
kiss  me ;  but  some  of  the  Union  pickets  thinking  there 
was  an  advance  in  the  direction  of  my  house  opened 
fire  just  then — and — and — shot  my  wife  through  the 
heart,  and  she  fell  before  she  had  kissed  me  or  I  her. 
The  bullet  that  killed  her  went  through  my  arm,  right 
there.  I  took  *her  up  and  ran  for  the  Union  lines 
shouting,  '  I'm  a  deserter,'  and  they  finally  let  me  in, 
but  my  wife  was  dead.  The  batteries  over  there  hear- 
ing the  muss  about  the  house  began  shelling  it, 
and  set  it  on  fire,  and  how  the  maid  got  out 
of  the  house  I  don't  see.  But  I  came  back 
here  when  the  Union  lines  advanced  and  buried 
her  next  day,  an  Illinois  chaplain  saying  the  prayers. 
And  that's  just  why  I  wish  I  was  dead.  I  can't  do 
anything  nor  think  of  anything  but  her.  Oh,  she  was 
such  a  good  wife."  Here  he  paused  and  wiped  his 
eyes  with  his  sleeve,  and  went  on  trimming  the  rose 
bush.  So  sad  a  tale  and  so  real,  being  in  the  very 
place  where  it  happened,  brought  tears  to  our  eyes  in 
spite  of  us.  We  could  not  find  it  in  our  heart  to  dis- 
turb him  with  more  questions  after  finding  out  his 
name,  and  so  left  him  to  pursue  our  search  in  the  fields 
beyond.     As  we  were  getting  over  the  fence  at   the 


194  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

outskirts  of  the  plantation  we  looked  back  and  saw 
him  still  there  bending  over  the  bunch  of  rose  trees. 
After  traveling  in  the  woods,  marking  the  bullet  and 
shell-scarred  oaks,  we  turned  toward  Vicksburg,  cross- 
ing one  corner  of  the  field  as  we  went.  It  was  getting 
dark  and  the  stars  were  appearing,  but  we  could  just 
see  his  form  leaning  over  the  bush  as  though  he  had 
not  stirred  since  we  left  him  an  hour  before.  We 
paused  upon  the  old  rail  fence  and  said  to  ourself, 
Great  God,  wilt  Thou  not  heal  this  broken  heart ! 

The  incident  saddened  us,  and  produced  such  an  im- 
pression upon  us  that  we  cannot  get  it  out  of  our  mem- 
ory. We  shall  retain  the  impression  until  our  dying 
day.  Oh,  that  we  could  do  something  to  alleviate  the 
suffering  of  that  sad  heart.  But  God  alone  is  the  only 
physician  who  can  heal  the  wounds  of  hearts  like  his. 
May  He  come,  in  His  infinite  mercy,  and  that,  too, 
quickly. 

You  say  in  your  last  letter  that  great  preparations 
are  making  for  the 

DECORATION    OF    THE    SOLDIERS'    GRAVES. 

Oh,  that  we  could  be  there  to  participate.  We  should 
feel  a  much  greater  interest  than  ever  before.  Don't 
forget  the  dead  that  died  and  were  buried  away  from 
home.  Dedicate  the  wreath  to  them  which  you  hang 
upon  the  monument.     We  have  endeavored  to  make 


SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  195 

arrangements  with  the  cemetery  keepers  to  have  the 
graves  of  the  Massachusetts  and  New  Hampshire  dead 
decorated  with  flowers  on  that  day.  We  would  like  to 
have  made  it  universal  that  no  patriot's  grave  might 
go  without  a  tribute.  But,  alas !  many  will  lie  in  their 
cold  graves  unnoticed ;  but  we  hope  they  or  their 
deeds  are  not  forgotten.  For  ourself  we  will  decorate 
the  graves  of  our  comrades  on  that  day,  and  strew 
flowers  over  as  many  as  we  possibly  can ;  and  we  ask 
of  the  patriot  assemblies  who  meet  on  that  day  that 
they  remember  in  some  befitting  manner  the  "dead 
who  sleep  in  a  strange  land."  One  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  Northern  dead  lie  in  the  South,  and  nearly 
two-thirds  of  them  "  Unknown  ;  "  you  must  not  forget 
them. 

"  He  mourns  the  dead  who  lives  as  they  desire." 
We  cannot  close   this   letter   without   reference   to 

JEFF    DAVIS'S    PLANTATION, 

which  we  visited  yesterday.  It  lies  on  the  banks  of 
the  Mississippi,  about  thirty  miles  below  Vicksburg, 
and  is  an  exceedingly  lovely  place.  Jeff  never  owned 
it  himself,  though  he  stayed  upon  it  from  1832  until 
1 86 1.  It  belonged  to  his  brother  Joe,  who  lives  in 
Vicksburg  and  gave  Jeff  the  use  of  it  (or  what  is  more 
likely,  Joe  managed  to  cook  up  a  title  when  he  was 
pardoned   and  he  saw  that   Jeff's  property  was  to  be 


196  SCALING   THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

confiscated  by  the  government).  The  buildings  all  re- 
main as  they  were  when  Jeff  left,  except  a  few  negro 
quarters  that  have  been  torn  down.  An  old  negro 
that  used  to  be  one  of  Jeff's  slaves,  now  leases  the 
plantation  of  Joe  for  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and 
hires  a  hundred  and  fifty  hands  to  work  it.  Not  a 
white  man  is  to  be  seen  about  the  place.  Strange 
as  it  may  seem  to  Mr.  Davis,  his  old  slave  is  making 
money  fast,  and  feels  as  proud  as  any  white  man  "  libin 
in  ole  Jeff's  parlor  dese  days."  The  whole  plantation 
of  several  thousand  acres  is  planted  to  cotton,  which 
appears  very  promising,  and  from  this  one  plantation 
cotton  jsnough  will  be  produced  to  run  a  mill  in  Lowell 
for  weeks. 

"  We  jist  lets  ole  Massa  Jeff  make  political  speeches 
an'  we'll  see  dat  de  cotton  grows,"  said  the  darkey  who 
showed  us  about,  and  who  had  a  queer  habit  of  show- 
ing the  whites  of  his  eyes  whenever  Jefferson  Davis 
was  mentioned. 

"  Golly,  who'd  sposed  dat  dis  chile  would  ben  free 
and  libin  on  dis  yer  plantation  with  my  Dolly  dar? 
Yah  !  yah  !  yah  !  Ole  Jeff  cum  to  grief  suah.  He'd 
be  hoppin'  mad,  dough,  to  see  dis  yer  nigger  here. 
Yah  !  yah  !  yah  !  " 

We  left  him  laughing  on  the  shore  and  moved  off  to 
the  boat  moralizing  upon  the  mutability  of  human 
events. 


SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST.  197 

FIFTH  LETTER. 

NEW    ORLEANS. 

On  a  floating  marsh,  that  is  said  to  be  gradually 
sinking  under  its  load  of  buildings,  stands  the  great 
commercial  city  of  New  Orleans.  Full  of  life,  every 
street  crowded  and  covered  with  the  foliage  and  blos- 
soms of  beautiful  magnolias  and  orange  trees,  it  may 
be  said  to  be  the  most  beautiful  city  in  North  America. 
There  are  many  things  in  and  about  it  to  remind  one 
of  French  cities,  and  to  justify  the  claims  of  its  inhab- 
itants, that  "  it  is  a  second  Paris."  Beautiful  city ! 
Wide  avenues,  shady  walks,  grand  old  buildings,  lovely 
drives,  cooling  fruit  groves,  clear  sunshine.  The  spec- 
tator of  to-day  who  notes  the  prosperous  streets,  the 
crowded  markets  and  loaded  wharves,  can  hardly  real- 
ize that  these  same  streets  have  been  the  arena  of  so 
many  terrible  combats,  or  the  stage  upon  which  so 
many  fearful  tragedies  and  important  comedies  have 
been  acted.  Canal  street  to-day,  with  its  decorated  show 
windows,  clean  pavements,  and  trains  of  street  cars, 
has  a  very  different  appearance  from  the  spectacle  seen 
there  on  that  other  first  of  May  when  the  Thirty- 
first  Massachusetts  and  the  Fourth  Wisconsin  In- 
fantry, with  Captain  Everett's  Artillery,  marched 
along  the  streets,  escorting  General  Butler  through  the 
surging  mob  to  the  St.  Charles  hotel.     The  levee  has 


198  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

a  very  different  aspect  from  that  presented  to  Farra- 
gut's  fleet  as  he  moored  alongside  of  blazing  ware- 
houses, smoking  ruins  of  shipping  and  the  smoulder- 
ing heaps  of  cotton.  The  people  that  appear  on  the 
sidewalks  with  their  gold-headed  canes,  poodle  dogs 
and  jewelry,  have  a  softer,  less  offensive  look  than  the 
bare-headed,  grizzly,  dirty  rabble  that  welcomed  the 
Yankees  with  threats  and  imprecations.  The  dark, 
deep  river  that  threatens  each  spring  to  overflow  its 
banks  and  come  down  into  the  basin  occupied  by  the 
city,  bears  to  and  fro  a  hundred  steamboats  where 
drifted  then  the  frowning  flagship  or  threatening  gun- 
boat. 

1862. 

When  we  left  the  train  which  brought  us  from  Lake 
Pontchartrain  we  almost  expected  to  see  the  same  men 
and  witness  the  same  scenes  which  occurred  in  1862. 
We  well  knew  they  would  not  be  there  ;  but  all  our 
previous  ideas  of  the  city  had  been  so  interwoven  with 
thoughts  of  insurrections,  mobs  and  battles  that  the 
simple  mention  of  the  name  called  up  the  scenes  of 
war.  Then  the  streets,  the  old  custom-house,  the 
statues  of  Jackson  and  Clay,  the  Saint  Charles  Hotel 
and  the  crowded  markets,  all  served  as  a  connecting 
link  between  the  present  and  past, — shadowing  the 
events  of  the  past  through  the  scenes  of  the  present. 
One  needs  only  to  walk  up  Saint  Charles  or  Poydras 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  199 

streets  and  see  the  handsome  faces  that  adorn  the 
latticed  windows  or  the  beautiful  forms  that  grace  the 
sidewalk,  to  be  reminded  of  that 

ARMY    OF    LADIES, 

who,  pistol  in  hand,  rushed  through  the  streets  on  the 
29th  of  May,  crying,  "  Burn  the  town  !  Destroy  the 
city  !  Don't  mind  us  ! '"'  Beautiful  dolls  in  time  of  peace  ; 
almost  indispensable  as  parlor  ornaments  in  time  of 
prosperity,  but  rather  poor  material  for  fighting  in  time 
of  war.  We  have  never  heard  that  a  single  one  of  this 
host  of  armed  Amazons  ever  mustered  sufficient  cour- 
age to  discharge  a  revolver.  But  they  were  a  power 
then.  From  street  to  street  and  house  to  house  they 
ran  with  dishevelled  hair  and  flushed  faces,  stirring  up 
the  spirit  of  chivalry  and  rebellion.  But  the  horrid 
men  wouldn't  come  up  to  the  scratch.  The  "  fellers  " 
had  seen  too  many  artificially  red  faces  and  too  many 
towzley  curls  draggling  down  the  ladies'  backs  before 
to  be  stirred  by  them  to  deeds  of  valor  in  the  presence 
of  Farragut's  fleet  and  the  corps  of  foreigners.  So 
the  dishevelled-haired,  red-faced  dodge  become  a  fail- 
ure, and  the  sweet  dears  went  home  to  comb  their  hair 
and  fix  up  to  receive  the  Yankees.     The  next  day 

THE    YANKEES    CAME. 

The  city  was  hid  in  a  huge  cloud  of  smoke.     Build- 
ings were  burning,  women   were   flying  to  the  country 


2  00  SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

and  Canal  street  and  levee  were  packed  by  a  furious, 
uncontrollable  gang  of  "plug-uglies,"  whose  occupa- 
tion had  been  gambling  and  fighting,  and  whose  pres- 
ent desire  was  to  murder  and  assassinate.  From  the 
great  ships  came  the  blue  uniforms,  the  bright  bayonets 
and  pavement-shaking  artillery,  and  forming  on  the 
wharf,  pierced  the  crowd  and  wound  up  Poydras  and 
St.  Charles  street  to  the  hotel. 

GENERAL    BUTLER    WAS    THERE, 

marching  coolly  along  between  a  file  of  soldiers,  the 
object  of  everybody's  attention.  Brave  man  !  A  gen- 
eral in  battle  has  the  excitement  of  the  rattle,  the  yells, 
the  booming  and  the  smoke  to  lift  his  courage  and 
take  his  thoughts  from  personal  danger.  But  he  who 
can  deliberately,  without  hesitation  or  fear,  march 
through  an  army  of  infuriated  roughs  that  is  seeking 
for  any  little  chance  to  shoot  or  stab  him,  with  his 
sword  in  his  sheath  and  his  revolver  in  his  belt,  can 
be  none  other  than  a  constitutionally  brave  man.  He 
that  could  sit  unconcernedly  in  his  room  while  the 
mob  were  crying  for  his  head  without,  and  while  his 
best  defenders  gave  up  the  city  for  lost,  and  could  or- 
der the  artillery  to  open  on  a  crowd  of  a  hundred 
times  the  number  of  the  garrison  without  a  doubt  as 
to  its  results,  is  someting  more  than  an  ordinary  man. 
General  Butler  may  have  made  some  mistakes  in  his 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  201 

life,  but  his  behavior  at  New  Orleans  is  surely  not  one 
of  them.     General  Butler  is  gone  and 

THE    MOB 

that  threatened  him  are  gone.  But,  as  in  almost  every 
other  instance,  the  general  has  outlived  his  enemies 
and  their  machinations  to  injure  him.  If  one  should 
write  a  history  of  that  crowd  since  the  soldier  citizens 
of  New  England  and  Wisconsin  heard  their  threats  of 
vengeance,  he  would  concentrate  into  a  few  pages, 
many  of  the  most  henious  crimes  ever  committed ; 
thousand  of  murders,  rapes,  assassinations,  robberies 
and  street  brawls,  such  as  the  records  of  crime  never 
before  saw  in  so  small  a  space.  We  doubt  if  ever  in 
the  history  of  the  world  there  was  such  an  army  of 
the  vilest,  lowest,  most  beastly  men  of  earth  gathered 
in  one  city.  The  knife,  pistol,  club  or  gallows,  has, 
however,  disposed  of  them,  and  the  city  is  quiet  now. 
Beautiful  city !  Not  a  trace  of  war !  So  prosperous, 
blooming  and  happy !  Who  would  suppose  that  it 
could  harbor  so  many  thousand  villains  and  murder- 
ers? 

With  all  these  thoughts  passing  through  our  minds 
we  sauntered  about  the  city  in  company  with  several 
army  friends,  looking  for  those  places  and  buildings 
whose  fame  the  history  of  the  Rebellion  has  made  im- 
mortal. 


202  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

THE    CUSTOM-HOUSE. 

Into  the  uncompleted  custom-house,  upon  which 
General  Beauregard  was  working  when  he  abandoned 
architecture  for  the  field,  we  went,  admiring  the  grand 
design  and  the  ponderous  masonry  of  the  building. 
In  the  rooms  where  the  troops  were  quartered  during 
the  war,  we  found  the  desks  of  busy  clerks  surrounded 
by  piles  of  official  papers  and  bundles  of  red  tape.  In 
the  basement  was  the  post-office,  occupying  nearly  the 
whole  floor,  and  its  entrance  filled  at  all  hours  of  the 
day  with  an  anxious-faced  crowd.  On  the  second  floor, 
the  way  to  which  is  up  the  same  old  rickety  plank 
stairs,  is  the  room  occupied  by 

GENERAL    LONGSTREET. 

He  was  there  when  we  went  in  and  greeted  us  in  a 
very  cordial  manner,  appearing  as  much  at  home  as 
any  other  man  should  in  a  fat  custom-house  office.  If 
a  man  ever  has  reason  to  smile,  it  is  when  he  gets  into 
the  custom-house.  For  it  is  one  of  the  neatest,  pret- 
tiest, jolliest,  laziest,  wickedest  positions  ever  held  by 
man ;  more  pay,  more  cigars,  more  sweetmeats  and 
fruits,  more  bribes,  more  salary  than  any  other  office 
affords,  and  at  the  same  time  requires  less  work,  less 
care,  less  hours,  less  knowledge,  less  everything  but 
political  chicanery  than  any  other  business  in  the 
world.     So  General   Longstreet  likes  it.     But    as  the 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  203 

fact  that  a  man  is  a  custom-house  officer  does  not 
necessarily  indicate  anything  in  regard  to  his  charac- 
ter, and  as  it  has  been  whispered  of  late  that  some 
tolerably  good  men  have  gained  admission  to  custom- 
houses, we  will  take  it  for  granted  that  General  Long- 
street  cared  nothing  about  the  few  thousand  dollars  a 
year  or  the  "perquisites,"  but  accepted  the  office 
merely  to  show  the  world  what  a  sacrifice  a  rebel  gen- 
eral could  make  "for  the  good  of  his  suffering  coun- 
try." Poor  man  !  How  we  pitied  him  as  we  noticed 
his  surroundings  and  thonght  how  much  happier  he 
must  be  at  home,  doing  nothing.  Oh  !  it  stirred  our 
heart  to  its  lowest  deep  to  think  of  what  this  man 
might  have  been  had  he  never  forsaken  his  country 
or  commanded  a  "rebel  squadron."  Before  he  took  up 
arms  in  that  cursed  rebellion  he  could  have  followed 
almost  any  profession, — dry  goods  clerk,  blacksmith, 
or  groceryman, — and  had  good  pay.  And  now,  here 
he  is !  How  sad !  Doomed  to  pass  nearly  three 
hours  every  day  in  the  custom-house,  surrounded  by 
cushioned  sofas,  easy  chairs,  damask-hung  windows 
and  Brussels-spread  floors,  with  clerks  running  in  to 
announce  visitors  or  bother  him'  with  decanters  and 
bottles;  obliged  to  drink  at  everybody's  invitation; 
to  smoke  the  best  Havanas  at  other  people's  expense; 
ride  out  every  evening  with  his  family  in  an  importer's 
carriage-and-four ;  and   absolutely   forced    to  draw  his 


204  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

$ioa  day  or  disappoint  the  secretary  of  the  treasury 
by  leaving  it  in  the  paymaster's  hands.  Sad  !  sad ! 
When  we  noticed  his  long  slick  whiskers,  his  round 
face,  plump  form  and  lively  manners,  and  saw  how  his 
room  was  made  hideous  with  cigar  boxes,  wine  bottles, 
fruit  crates,  and  downy  settees,  the  bottom  of  our  heart 
was  again  turned  topsy-turvy,  and  we  resolved  never, 
never  to  go  into  the  rebel  army,  never  to  shoot  Yankees, 
never  to  take  afterwards  the  winning  side,  if  it  must 
come  to  a  fate  like  this.  It  seemed  as  if  our  host  knew 
our  thoughts,  for  as  we  went  in  he  glanced  around,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  I  know  it  is  hard.  You  hardly  ex- 
pected that  I  would  ever  come  to  this.  But  it  is  all  for 
the  great  and  glorious  Union."  However,  the  general 
kept  up  good  spirits,  and  congratulated  Boston  upon 
escaping  the  odium  of  having  one  of  her  own  citizens 
appointed  as  collector  of  customs  for  the  port  of  Bos- 
ton, He  hoped  the  war  was  over,  and  prayed  for 
peace.  We  told  him  we  thought  his  prayers  would  be 
answered,  and  then  left  to  make  a  call  on 

GENERAL  HOOD. 

We  found  him  in  a  one-horse  commission  store  on 
the  second  floor  of  a  stone  building  on  a  side  street. 
He  was  very  sociable  and  talked  freely  about  the  war 
and  said  he  regretted  nothing  he  had  done,  and  would 
do  the  same  fighting  over   again   if  he  had  a   chance. 


SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST.  205 

He  said  when  he  succeeded  General  Johnson  in  com- 
mand of  the  Western  Confederate  army  he  knew  the 
game  was  up.  He  was  only  fighting  to  save  his  honor. 
The  "  revolution  "  was  crushed  when  Vicksburg  fell, 
and  he  said  so  at  that  time.  He  said  it  was  painful  for 
him  to  talk  about  the  lost  cause,  and  he  did  not  like  to 
recall  the  war.  We  came  near  suggesting  that  if  he 
could  get  into  the  custom-house  it  might  cure  his 
squeamishness  on  the  subject  of  the  late  unpleasant- 
ness, but  as  he  said  he  should  never  make  any 
political  speeches  we  concluded  he  was  too  far  gone 
for  a  custom-house  cure.  He  arose  on  his  crutches 
as  we  left,  bidding  us  good-bye  with  an  emphasis 
which  indicated  that  he  would  like  to  have  us  call 
again  ;  so  we  have  kept  a  good  opinion  of  General 
Hood. 

GENERAL    BEAUREGARD 

received  our  formal  call  in  that  dignified  manner  which 
all  men  who  have  "had  greatness  thrust  upon  them  " 
usually  display  when  they  come  in  contact  with  the 
smaller  portions  of  the  Almighty's  universe.  He  was 
very  condescending  and  "granted  us  a  short  inter- 
view." He  is  president  of  the  New  Orleans  &  Jackson 
railroad  and  has  his  office  in  a  fine  marble-front 
building  in  the  wealthiest  part  of  the  city.  He  made 
little  or  no  reference  to  the  war,  but  confined  his  con- 


206  -        SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

versation  to  the  commercial  convention  and  the  condi- 
tion of  the  railroads.  From  what  he  said  and  our  own 
experience  we  concluded  that  nearly  all  the  railroads 
in  the  South  were  almost  as  bad  stock  to  invest  in  as 
Southern  Confederacy  bonds.  Nearly  every  one  had 
borrowed  money  at  the  North  before  the  war,  and 
when  the  Confederacy  confiscated  all  moneys  due 
Northern  creditors  they  paid  these  sums  to  the  "  pow- 
ers that  were  ; "  and,  being  now  obliged  to  pay  these 
debts  to  the  lawful  creditors,  they  have  become  poor  as 
a  church  mouse.  Beauregard  was  made  president  of  the 
railroad  because  the  people  along  the  line  were  rebels, 
and  the  road  would  be  more  popular  with  a  rebel  gen- 
eral at  its  head.  Again  we  resolved  never  to  be  a  rebel 
general  if  such  misdemeanors  would  inflict  upon  us  the 
hard  task  of  drawing  a  big  salary  and  doing  nothing 
for  life  as  a  railroad  president.  As  we  did  not  deem 
it  such  a  "  tremendous  honor  "  to  wait  upon  the  man 
who  had  caused  so  much  needless  bloodshed,  and  as  he 
seemed  to  think  we  were  favored  with  the  smiles  of  a 
great  and  noble  man  while  we  remained  in  his  office, 
we  thought  best  to  bid  him  good-bye.  He  invited  us 
to  call  again  whenever  we  came  his  way,  which  we 
may  possibly  do,  if  by  that  means  we  can  get  a  free 
pass  over  the  New  Orleans  &  Jackson  railroad.  From 
General  Beauregard's  office  we  went  to  the  outskirts  of 
the  city  to  see  how  fared 


SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST.  207 

THE    CANALS    AND    DRAINS. 

which  General  Butler  ordered  dug  when  he  kept  the 
pestilential  yellow  fever  out  of  the  city.  We  found 
them  partially  filled  with  filthy  mud,  while  the  top  of 
the  black  water  was  covered  with  a  thick  scum  of  a 
yellow-blue  color.  The  stench  from  them  was  nearly 
suffocating,  and  we  made  haste  to  get  on  the  windward 
side  to  avoid  a  retreat  toward  the  city.  The  city  is  on 
a  marsh  that  is  much  lower  than  the  river,  and  stag- 
nant water  would  stand  here  at  any  time  of  the  year, 
making  it  sickly  if  there  were  no  other  aggravating 
causes.  But  when  the  offal  and  filth  of  the  city  is 
carelessly  thrown  into  these  fever-breeding  sloughs  and 
left  to  decompose,  the  effect  is  terrible.  One  of  the 
most  rabid  rebels  we  have  met  in  the  South  went  with 
us  to  visit  the  suburbs,  and  although  he  said  all  the 
bad  things  and  told  all  the  lies  he  could  get  into  the 
hour  we  were  with  him  about 

GENERAL    BUTLER, 

yet  when  we  asked  why  the  city  was  not  kept  as 
neat  and  these  drains  as  clean  as  they  were  during  the 
military  rule  of  General  Butler,  he  expressed  his  idea 
of  the  incompetency  of  the  city  government  in  very 
strong  terms. 

"  I  heartily  wish  he  was  back  here,"  said  he,  "  to  pull 
these    city   officials   over   the    coals.      Why,   the    only 


208  SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST. 

healthy  year  this  city  ever  saw  was  when  he  was  here 
to  make  these  lazy  fellows  toe  the  mark.  As  much  as 
I  hate  him  I  wish  he  was  back,  and  would  vote  for  him 
in  a  minute. " 

"  I  hardly  think  he  would  run  well  for  mayor,"  said 
we,  jokingly. 

"  Yes  he  would  though,"  said  he.  "  The  people 
would  all  vote  for  him  just  to  spite  the  present  incom- 
petents." 

Later  in  the  day,  after  we  had  returned  to  the  Saint 
Charles  Hotel,  we  had  some  conversation  with  another 
hater  of  Butler,  and  when  we  referred  to  the  recent 
action,  of  the  Legislature  in 

LICENSING    GAMBLING    HOUSES, 

lottery  schemes,  and  such  places,  he  exclaimed:  "Well, 
after  all  is  said,  Butler  did  do  one  good  thing  for  the 
city  in  suppressing  crime.  You  may  not  believe  it, 
sir,  but  he  renovated  this  city,  and  a  rowdy  dared  not 
stay  here.  Really  I  wish  he  could  be  in  command 
here  long  enough  to  clean  out  these  gambling  dens." 

So  it  was  everywhere  we  went.  Men  cursed  Butler ; 
wished  him  all  manner  of  evil ;  wanted  to  fight  us  for 
refusing  to  "  see  it  in  that  light ; "  yet  each  admitted 
that  he  wished  the  general  was  back  to  summarily 
cure  some  e  il  they  hated.  But  no  two  agreed  on  the 
same  thing. 


SCALING    THE    EAGLE'S    NEST.  209 

A    WEALTHY    NEGRO. 

One  day  as  we  were  wandering  around  the  suburbs 
of  the  city  looking  for  magnolia  and  orange  blossoms, 
we  found  a  stout  negro,  about  thirty  years  old,  digging 
away  in  a  very  large  field.  He  asked  us  the  time  of 
day,  and  we  turned  to  talk  with  him.  He  seemed 
very  intelligent,  and  told  us  that  he  could  read  and 
write.  After  learning  that  forty  acres  of  this  very  val- 
uable land  belonged  to  him,  we  inquired  how  he  came 
to  buy  it. 

14 1  tell  you,"  said  he,  "  it  was  mighty  hard  work  at  • 
first ;  but  I  got  a  little  and  saved  a  little.  I  bought 
two  acres  and  the  next  year  paid  for  three  more, 
and  so  on  until  I  got  forty  acres.  Land  was  awful 
cheap  then.  But  now  I  couldn't  earn  enough  on 
my  whole  forty  acres  to  buy  another  acre ;  it  has  gone 
up  so." 

"  Does  any  of  this  land  alongside  here  belong  to 
colored  men  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes !  Lots  and  lots  of  it.  You  see  long  ago 
General  Butler  was  down  South  and  he  told  us  col- 
ored folks  this  way — says"  he,  '  The  colored  folks  are 
going  to  be  free.  They  must  be  free.  Now  if  they  will 
learn  to  read  and  write,  they  will  be  practically  men 
and  women  like  white  folks.'  Then  he  said,  'If  now 
you  will  go  to  work  and  earn,  no  matter  how  little, 
and  lay  it  by  until  you  get  a  little  more,  and  then  buy 


210  SCALING    THE    EAGLES    NEST. 

land,  as  you  will  some  day,  then  you  will  be  free  like 
white  folks.'  He  said  a  darkey  with  no  money  was 
mighty  poor,  but  if  he  had  money  and  land  he  would 
be  as  good  as  other  folks.  So,  you  see,  some  of  us, 
with  nothing  but  our  hands  to  do  with  first,  said  we 
would  try  it.  And  after  trucking  and  working  at  the 
cane  and  potatoes  we  got  a  little,  and  when  we  see  the 
chance  we  got  a  white  man  to  buy  for  us ;  and  now 
here  we  are.  One  man  over  there  on  the  shell  road  is 
worth  fully  thirty  thousand  dollars.  His  land  has  gone 
up  so." 

We  wished  him  much  success,  and  went  on  with 
our  search,  thinking  what  a  condition  the  country 
would  have  been  in  had  there  been  no  General  Butler. 
Cross  out  his  work,  and  what  would  the  war  have 
been  ? 

At  one  of  the  hotels  in  New  Orleans  we  met  a  com- 
pany of  Northern  health-seekers,  and  among  them  was 
a  member  of  the  Fifty-second  Massachusetts,  who  was 

TRAVELING    FOR    HIS  HEALTH. 

He  was  well  acquainted  with1  the  city,  and  we  went  out 
to  the  old  camp-grounds  together.  But  the  cotton  and 
sugar  then  covered  the  spots  and  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  we  found  them.  With  him  we  visited  the  ruins  of 
Forts  Jackson  and  St.  Philip.  But  he  was  almost  ex- 
hausted  on    our   return,   and   before  two  months  had 


SCALING   THE    EAGLES    NEST.  2  11 

passed  he  was  sleeping  the  sleep  of  death.  His  name 
was  Matthews,  and  he  resided  in  New  York.  His 
health  had  been  impaired  in  the  army  and  he  was  in 
hopes  that  a  second  visit  to  the  old  scenes  would  give 
him  back  the  health  they  took.  Alas !  how  many  there 
are  yet  lingering,  d\  ing  gradually  since  the  war  from 
diseases  they  contracted  then — all  the  more  martyrs 
for  suffering  three  years  of  dying  instead  of  so  many 
moments.  Yesterday  we  laid  our  only  brother  in  the 
cold  grave.  He  was  a  soldier.  Refusing  promotion, 
although  repeatedly  offered  it,  he  plodded  nobly  on, 
doing  cheerfully  the  work  of  a  common  soldier  until 
he  was  almost  forced  into  a  better  position.  Disease 
came  upon  him,  as  it  did  upon  so  many  thousand  oth- 
ers, slowly  and  surely.  Four  years  he  lingered  with  us, 
never  murmuring  or  regretting  his  service,  and  to-day 
the  great  craggy  mountains  that  surrounded  the  home 
of  his  birth  look  down  in  silence  upon  his  new-made 
grave.  Charles  has  passed  over,  and  bound  us  by 
one  more  pledge  to  ever  hold  sacred  the  principles  for 
which  he  gave  his  life. 

THE    NATIONAL    CEMETERY, 

in  which  are  buried  all  the  soldiers  who  died  in  the 
department  of  Louisiana,  is  situated  on  the  old  New 
Orleans  battle-fields,  where  Jackson  fought  behind 
cotton  bales.      At  the  time   we  were   there   beautiful 


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W&i 


C28(842)M50 


9*3.59 


i 


C769 


■ 

■ 
o 

=o  > 
ru  c 

LU 

r-  > 


:  * 

:,J~' 
00    i 

[cm 


Si 


BRITTLE  DO  NOT  ■ 


PH0T^0?Y 


JUL  2     1945 


